


They Would Have Found Me By Now

by martinisandart



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Abduction, Case Fic, Come after Me, England - Freeform, F/M, Fake Marriage, fluff!, he actually goes after her, oh boy it’s emotion time, tropes galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinisandart/pseuds/martinisandart
Summary: A sudden string of wealthy women going missing in England piques the interest of one Phryne Fisher. After having finally persuaded her inspector to come after her, they charade as an engaged couple and attempt to uncover the mystery before it’s too late.[updates are usually on wednesdays]
Relationships: Daisy Dalrymple/Alec Fletcher, Phryne Fisher & Jack Robinson, Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 81
Kudos: 108





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This... marks the start of my first case fic. To be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing, but I missed writing, I missed them, and *poof*! Here we are. Constructive criticism is so, so welcome, and I hope to be done in about 15 chapters time! Marking as M for now, as frankly, this could go anywhere.

September 29, 1929

Dearest Jack.  
How on earth have I only been in England for a little over a week? It feels as if I have been gone for at least a month, if not longer, and it does pain me a little, I’ll admit, to be away from the place that I have started to consider as my home in the last couple of years. If anything, I just miss my makeshift family- Mr. B, Jane, Dot, Collins, and especially you. I miss you awfully- much more than I had originally anticipated to. With the short telegrams that Dot has been sending me that mention you moping in your office and being far too invested in your work, I am inclined to feel like you must miss me a little bit too. If you don’t, well, I shan’t feel too offended. Perhaps it will give me a chance to train up another unsuspecting officer while I’m gone? 

When I said come after me, I meant it with the fondest of regards, for I truly do want you to- come after me, that is. With all the toils that London holds, I feel it would much, much easier if you were here with me so I had someone to fall back on- there is only so much comfort that can be offered by nightcaps alone in my private parlour while reading Shakespeare’s works- though if I am to be quite open with you, Jack, it just makes me miss you more. I really do just need you here- for my sanity’s sake. My parents will end up driving me up the wall (you know how Father is), and I fear the worst if I am to stay here much longer. Between their tiffs and the endless social arrangements that I’ve had to deal with, I feel almost as if I shall waste away by the turn of the decade! At least when I was in Melbourne dealing with dear Aunt P, I had you to share looks with across the room, and laugh about the more... dull aspects of it over a nightcap at a later hour. It seems, over here, that my nightcap partner is more often than not Reggie’s (the butler, Jack, I can feel your scornful gaze from over the oceans) cat. As endearing as it is to have my nightcap partner try and cuddle into my shoulder or lap at every chance he gets, Mittens is less than stimulating company in the evenings. He doesn’t even tease me! 

I need you here on a more professional note too- though, as of the moment, there is not all too much more I can say than that, for I myself am still trying to figure out what in god’s name is going on. (Note: if you tell Dot that I used the lord’s name in vain like you did last time, I shall be forced to throttle you; and it shan’t be la petite mort, Jack dear, so do pick your battles wisely). There have been a strange few occurrences lately, to do with women in the higher social circles, and I feel as lost as Collins did when he first started working on cases with us. There seem to be a lot of ends that aren’t tying up, and usually, a picture would have come together by now- there is also far too large a pool of suspects and a lot of men that aren’t who they seem. I’ve enclosed a photo that relates to my issue in hand, but no further detail than that at the moment, darling. If you want to learn more, I would strongly suggest that you come after me. Please. London seems to be doing its level best to stop me from coming home to you, so I ask of you to do the next best thing: bring home to me. Just you, Jack. Not Collins or Dot, but please, just yourself. 

I need you to promise me you’ll think about it? For me? If you do think on it enough for anything to come to the point where you do end up looking at travel timetables, there’s a timetable of the Orient’s docking schedule hung up next to the calendar in my kitchen if you feel so inclined as to book a passage. 

On another, somewhat unrelated note, would you also take any time you spend at Wardlow to pick up any of my beads that I left behind? Dot will parcel them up and give them to you, along with a few other items that I left behind (including my garter dagger, can you believe it?), it’s just that Mother dearest is breathing down my neck about not being engaged yet, so I need the mother of pearl ring that Father gave to me to wear once I found “a suitable man” so that she gets off my back. 

I do hope to hear from you soon, Jack. I really do. 

Eternally grateful and with all my love, 

P x   
+

Jack Robinson sighed, and smoothing the creases of the letter that had somehow made its way to the Antipodes in less than four days (no doubt there was some... old friend... who had aided the process), tipped back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a moment. Phryne had been gone for almost a month- a month next Tuesday, he thought to himself, and really, it was all too quiet without her. Every morning when he arrived at City South after spending a night in his cold parlour, without any nightcaps, or any nice dinner partners, he half expected her to turn up and to throw herself across his desk- for her to offer to help with the tiny cases that had been passing his desk since she left for London. Of course, he had only had small cases since she had taken her sudden leave with her father- it was clear that the crims were all too aware of her departure, and they too had taken a sudden, and surprisingly convenient break. He laughed softly, his eyes opening again as he picked up the letter’s envelope and tipped out its other contents onto the top of his desk, thinking all the while. He missed it- ‘it’ being cases with the lady detective by his side. Of course, there were the usual drunk and disorderlies, and domestic disputes, but there had been no murders at all, not one!

He didn’t miss the murders themselves, of course, for that would just be cruel; nor did he miss the paperwork; but he did miss the feel of the chase- the feel of the chase with her, and knew that it simply wouldn’t be the same without her lest a case did come into his hands before she returned home. Even if a decent case did make its way into his vicinity, it would be how it had been, post-war and pre-Phryne: a little bit dull, and far too slow. There was something about working with Miss Fisher that made Jack happier than he had ever been before, happier than even pre-war, or when he was married to Rosie. His cases with this crazy, lovable socialite were better than the supposed pre-marital bliss that newlyweds were supposed to adore. He laughed out loud again, and smiled to himself, opening his desk drawer and glancing at the mugshots that still lay there- three of four, their black and white smiles taunting him, the sparkles in her eyes evident even in the photos. The fourth one was his favourite, even if it wasn’t here with him, even if he shouldn’t have them still, but did, even if it did happen to be the bookmark in his current Zane Grey reading material- it really did make the opening of every book even more enjoyable than reading already was. It was annoying really, thought Jack to himself: he was so awfully infatuated with this woman that he had her photo as a bookmark even when his divorce wasn’t legally finalised, yet he hadn’t had the courage to do anything about this blossoming love until the woman herself had upped and left the country to deal with her parent’s financial affairs. 

At first, when she had asked him to go after her, it had been no more than a joke: a silly little romantic overture that had made them both fall quiet. When she had seriously repeated it, in a tone so gentle that it was almost under her breath, Jack had felt as if his heart were to burst out of his chest, for it would have been the only appropriate reaction. She wanted her to go after him, and when he had watched her little yellow plane fly off into the sky, his heart had both healed and broken at the very same time, and he knew. He knew he would go after her. In all honesty, he had known that for months, ever since they had decided to ‘make do’ with one another- he knew that if she asked, he would follow her to the end of the earth. The more unfortunate reality of the matter, however, was that being able to go after someone- overseas of all places- was not such an easy feat: it was a matter of time, and expenses, and other difficulties that simply wouldn’t show themselves until the most unhelpful time. For the detective inspector who had finally found his heart again, the original plan was one of utter hesitation: to wait it out, to see if Phryne would return a month later with her plane and her things, and for him to be able to sweep her back up into his arms, and they could pick up where they left off: he would wait for her as he always had: his heart racing, and always being two steps behind her. That had always been his plan, Jack said to himself, reaching for the pot of station tea that one of the greenest constables had provided- at least, that was until the letter arrived. 

The wax-sealed envelope was a cream colour, and the seal was embossed with a gold swallow, and a swirling ‘P.F’ right underneath: the usual decorated envelope of the upper class. When Collins had first given the envelope to his superior that morning, even just the sight of an embossed envelope had caused Jack’s heart to race, and what had been more likely than not a tear had almost escaped from Jack’s eye. Once he had realised for sure who the letter was from, even just her familiar hand scrawled across the front of a piece of embossed card was enough to move him to tears, that was just how dearly he missed her. He had grabbed the letter from Collins in a matter of seconds, and as soon as he had shed his coat, and acquired a cup of strong tea, had retreated to the quiet of his office, and had asked to be left in peace, and of course, Collins had obliged- after all. He knew full well that the letter would be from a certain lady detective, and that unless his superior was left in peace to relish in its contents, that the day would be a long, rather painful one. After all, the letter was one of two things: a notice that the woman would be making her way home, or yet another short one, detailing how she missed ‘her’ detective inspector so dearly, and would he please, for the love of all things holy or unholy, come after her already? Hugh Collins had seen the telegrams scattered around the station as he went about his daily duties- each telegram or letter a short confession of love, signed with a kiss- occasionally an actual one, and goodness, there had been so many: more than he could count on the two hands that God had given him. 

FROM: P. FISHER  
TO: J. ROBINSON  
\- AWFULLY BORED STOP COME AFTER ME STOP R+J II II 185 STOP 

FROM: J. ROBINSON  
TO: P. FISHER  
\- WISH I WERE THERE STOP MISSING YOU TOO STOP 

FROM P. FISHER  
TO: J. ROBINSON  
\- A+C V II 288 STOP REALLY JACK QUERIE YOU ARE THE WORST STOP 

+

Jack treasured all of the telegrams that Phryne sent him, he truly did- and the letter was to be something he treasured even more, that was, until he had opened it. Her first paragraphs of declarations of missing him, and her mother and father being their usual charming selves had set his heart at ease, for she clearly missed him as much as he did her, but the latter paragraph of jumbled words and the prospect of a case sent his head spinning. In the present, he laid the letter back onto his desk with a sigh and leaned back in his chair. It made no sense. When it came to cases, Phryne Fisher was the one who knew what was what from the get-go: she understood all of what was going on and could pick out the most likely suspect from a twirling ballroom full of sparkling gowns. To hear that she was confused was like hearing Rosie verbally expressing that she loved him in the years after he had returned from the Great War: it was improbable, unpredictable, and highly unlikely. 

Jack turned over the letter in his hands, and let his eyes come to rest upon the photo that Phryne had enclosed, battling with his heart and mind as he looked at the picture. Similar to one that had been taken before her cousin’s engagement party had gone to hell in the late days of 1928, there was a black and white photo of a group of women, stood in costumes in a garden that was likely part of some grand, sprawling estate in upper-class England. Jack’s eyes were of course drawn first to Phryne who was once again dressed in the ridiculously revealing Cleopatra costume she had worn at the other ill-fated party, and around her were the gleaming faces of marginally intoxicated women in varying states of dress- some as birds, some as storybook characters, others as biblical characters similar to that of the bride-to-be from before. What struck Jack as strange was the three men in the picture, lurking in the background, and the one man who was hanging onto the arm of a tall, pale-skinned blonde in the foreground. Phryne too had obviously found this strange, as there was a lipstick circle around the clearly tight grip he had on the woman’s arm, as well as a note of a name in the top corner. He turned the photo over and looked at her swirling script once more: “Mirriam Highcastle, Susan Merriweather, Amabella Lepont. Where was Rosemary? Peter Highcastle” 

Jack sighed. No matter how many times he had read the names, over and over, he had no idea what they meant, or how they related to the case that she “couldn’t tell him more about”. He put his head in his hands, and opening his desk drawer once more, looked at the wad of cash and the passport that had been sat there for the last three days: since that call to the commissioner that had ended up with him learning that he had accumulated about nine months of leave since starting back with the Victorian Police force after the war. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he pulled the cash and passport out of the drawer, and stood up, grabbing the letter and his overcoat and hat off of their respective pegs of the coat stand.

“Collins!” Jack’s tone was sharp, and the constable scuttled to his side immediately.   
  
“Yes, sir?”   
  
“Call Mrs Collins up, Hugh,” Jack said, his mouth pulling into a taut line, 

“We have business at Wardlow, it seems.” 

Collins shook his head for a second, dazed, and then popped behind the desk to make the call as Jack paced the waiting room of the station. Once Hugh had put down the phone, he made his way to the door, waiting for his superior to follow him, only voicing his concerns as they opened the doors to the police car and climbed in. 

“What ever is the matter, Sir?” he said in a confused manner,  
“Dottie that she and Mr. Butler were expecting you, but she wouldn’t explain why.” 

Jack seemed to suddenly realise that Collins was next to him in the car, and he let out a sigh. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Collins.” He said quietly.   
“I need you to stay here though. Call O’Shaughnessy, keep the station going. I might be gone a while.” 

Hugh climbed out of the car, a frown on his brow. In the last few days, Inspector Robinson had gone from ecstatic to a nervous mess, and he had overheard the hushed conversation with the commissioner the other evening, talk of money and leave. Hugh Collins took a deep breath and praying that he wasn’t stepping over a line, made to speak up again.  
  
“Does she need you, Sir?” 

Jack nodded, and Hugh felt a niggling worry start up in his stomach. 

“I believe she might, Collins. I believe that she just might.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A+C V II 288: Come then, kiss me and take the last bit of warmth from my lips  
> R+J II II 185: Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow  
> ... how’d I do!?


	2. The Kitchen Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love for everyone who’s invested in this already! I can’t promise that updates will be super frequent (oh, the joys of life), but I promise that I won’t ever leave you hanging for too long! Super big hugs to Mai for agreeing to beta for me- I hope everyone enjoys the next instalment! <3

When Jack climbed out of the police motorcar and made his way up Wardlow’s front path, it was with a feeling of melancholy in his stomach, and with a frown upon his brow. He had walked to this door so many times before, up this path far more often than he could even think about, yet this time, it was different. 

It wasn’t that Jack had avoided Wardlow or its occupants since a certain lady detective had left the country, but more that he had been given no true reason to turn up on the front stoop with a case file in his arms and beg the infuriating woman of the house’s help. Between having a husband and feeling the need to keep the station’s biscuit supply going, Jack had seen Dot Collins a lot more times than he would care to mention- especially as in recent weeks, it had seemed as if she had single-handedly kept him fed while he worked late nights doing practically no more than sitting in his desk chair with his head in his hands. Jack forced a smile as he took the step up onto the little front veranda that had housed more than a couple of unofficial witness interrogations, and took in a deep breath before reaching to knock on the door, ready for the ever-present Mr. Butler to swing open the door within a matter of seconds, let him in, take his coat, and guide him into the parlour where she would be waiting, knees tucked up under herself on the chaise, a bottle of liquor that he would never be able to afford on the drinks cart ready to be cracked open, and a soft smile on her lips as she realised just who it was who was at the door. Except- that wouldn’t happen this time. The woman who was softly grinning in his mind’s eye was thousands of miles away, the parlour was probably sitting cold and unused, and the drinks were likely sat alone in the cupboards. Jack looked at his watch, and nodded to himself. It was, after all, only just after three in the afternoon. 

Jack was so caught up in his own thoughts that it wasn’t until a polite cough punctuated the air that he noticed that Mrs Collins had opened the door, and Mr. Butler was hovering in the back of the entryway, both of them with somewhat bemused looks upon their faces. 

“You seemed to be elsewhere, Inspector.” Dot said politely, opening the door a little wider as Jack shook himself out of whatever trance he had been in and removed his hat, stepping into the hallway of Wardlow and hanging up his coat on what he considered to be _his_ peg before Mr. Butler even had the chance to offer his assistance. 

He wandered into the parlour out of habit, and turned in a slow circle, taking in the comforting surroundings as if they were a warm drink after a cold day out, and Dot and Mr. Butler watched him and shared a sad smile. It seemed that the Inspector truly did miss their mistress as much as she missed him if her handwritten messages were anything to go by. Each one of the letters that her household had received had been full of tales of semi-scandalous times in England, but were also frequently dotted with reminders to ‘keep the Inspector fed’ and ‘make sure that Jack is getting enough rest if he’s working a hard case, you know how he is’. Between the two sets of letters that they were receiving, and Constable Collins reports of Jack acting damn near lovesick every time that he received a letter from the woman herself, it was clear- crystal-clear, in fact, that the two intrepid detectives really did miss one another; and not just due to the fact they worked well together. 

Jack turned back on his heel to the two other members of Phryne’s ragtag family in the room, and shot a shy, somewhat sorry smile in their direction, before pulling the letter and photo out of his inner suit pocket. 

“So,” he said almost too quietly, the worry returning to his stomach after the comfort of the parlour had finished enveloping him in a warm hug,

“What cloak and dagger reason has Miss Fisher come up with for having us all band together this time, Mrs Collins?” 

The woman in question smiled gently at the Inspector and gestured to the kitchen, from which the sounds of rustling paper and the readying of a kettle to be boiled could already be heard. 

“If you’ll follow me, Inspector!” she said with a half-smile, and Jack couldn’t help but allow a light laugh to escape his lips as they wandered through to the kitchen. 

“You really don’t need to be formal, Mrs Collins.” he said, smiling at her as Mr. Butler pressed a cup of strong tea into his hands, 

“Call me Jack.” 

Dot smiled as she took a sip of the tea that Mr. Butler had passed her too, and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table that seemed to be littered with a rather large amount of papers. 

“I’m not so sure I’d be able to promise that!” she said, her usual cheery grin on her face, 

“Though, please do call me Dot! I’m still not quite used to being Mrs Collins.” 

The two of them shared a smile as Mr. Butler pulled out his own seat, and coughed, starting as if to speak up, but then stopping as he realised Jack had started to look over the papers on the table, a hazy, worried look coming over his face.

+

A few moments that felt more like years later, Jack looked back up from the photos and papers on the table and into the worried eyes of Phryne’s household staff, who were watching him as if he were about to flee at any second. He locked eyes with Mr. Butler, who let out a little cough, and reached for his tea, before pulling a stack of papers off of the chair next to him and placing them gently in front of Jack, within his reach. 

“We don’t know any more than you do, Inspector Robinson.” he said apologetically as Jack looked over the table once more, trying to piece together what all the papers could possibly mean. 

Other than a couple of handwritten documents, scrawled in what was clearly Phryne’s spidering font, the majority of the papers were semi-crumpled photographs, clearly somewhat squashed from however they had managed to make their way overseas (Jack once again suspected that it was something to do with one of her old friends in the air force, but didn’t let himself dwell on that fact for too long). Most of the pictures were similar to the one that Phryne had sent him along with the letter: photographs of upper-class women, dancing at balls, posing at garden parties, but all of the photos including a couple of men who seemed awfully out of place, and just kept popping up. Every so often, there would be a man, or a couple of men who seemed to be intent on pulling their women out of the photo- as if they did not want it to be shown that their better halves were having any fun. Jack let out a little huff, and Dot replenished his tea as he reached for the bundle of papers that were handwritten. 

“She said those were her case files, in the letter that came with them, Inspector.” said Dot softly, smoothing her hair and leaning over to take a look at the pictures that Jack had spread out across the table in a much more pleasing and neat manner than how they had been set out before. 

Whilst her attention was focused on the pictures (and Mr. Butler too reached over to try and sort them into some semblance of how they could all interlink), Jack found himself drawn into Phryne’s ‘case file’ of sorts- not that it truly was one, nor was it legible. She had clearly written the papers in a bit of a hurry: usually her hand was one that was clear and legible- always in bright blue ink, with a perfect copperplate cursive that must have been nearly beaten into her in finishing school when she was younger. These notes- there was something about them that just didn’t add up, and Jack felt uneasy, even though the words that he could pick out were ones of joy: ballroom dances, engagements, other pretty, prissy things that he knew Phryne hated, and certainly wouldn’t have been taking such an active interest in if she was still at home in the Antipodes. 

Dot passed Jack a final envelope, and Mr. Butler pushed back his chair and took a bottle of whiskey off of the shelf, proclaiming “medicinal”, before pouring each of them a glass. 

Jack quirked his eyebrow in surprise, and Dot looked at him expectantly. 

“When Mr. Fletcher dropped off her parcel, he said that she wanted you to open that envelope. Specifically you, Inspector.” she trailed off for a moment, before blushing and continuing with

“Well, he actually said that Miss Fi- Phryne... told him to, under no circumstances, give it to anyone other than the attractive inspector fellow that could usually be found at her mantlepiece. Though, he did give it to me because you weren’t stood-” 

Dot trailed off meekly as the Inspector in question let out a laugh, turning the envelope over in his hands with a smile on his lips, before another more prevalent question made its way out of his mouth faster than he could stop himself. 

“Who is Mr Fletcher, Dot?” 

Dot turned a pale pink again, and spoke quietly. 

“Well,” she said, 

“Don’t tell Hugh, but he’s this awfully attractive English Inspector- Alec Fletcher, Chief Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard, can you believe it! He married Miss Fisher’s old school friend Daisy- oh they’re so similar, Inspector, she’s always tripping over murders too, he said!” 

Jack felt a sudden calm come over him: so Mr Fletcher wasn’t an old friend of the usual sort, but the spouse of an old friend of the schoolgirl sort. He let out a sigh of relief, and met Dot’s eye with the first proper smile he had had on his face since he stepped foot into Wardlow that afternoon. 

He turned the envelope over in his hands once more, and Mr. Butler passed him a knife so that he could slit open the seam without damaging the wax seal on the back: this time a pale green wax with the imprint of an orchid. Jack’s heart swelled as he forced open the paper package, and both Mr. Butler and Dot watched with bated breath as he withdrew a folded leaf of cream writing paper, which he unfolded, smoothed, and then spread on the table to read. 

“Dear Jack,” he paused, and Dot looked at him in surprise.

“You don’t have to read it out loud!” she said in shock, and Jack shook his head. 

“It’s Miss Fisher, Dot.” he said with a smile, 

“If you’re in it from the start, you’re in it for the long haul.” 

The look that Mr. Butler and Dot shared went completely unnoticed by Jack as he picked up the paper and started to read once more, the other two practically thinking the exact same thought. Jack too, was in it for the long haul- and not just with the mysteries. A cough brought them back to the present. 

“If you’re reading this letter (he scoffed at this), then I suppose you must have done the right thing and called up my residence as soon as you read the other letter I sent to the station. I’m so deeply sorry to have left you without any true evidence, or clues- for I have none of my own other than a handful of anomalies that have popped up- hopefully you can see those for yourself in the photos that I had Alec bring over with him. 

With regards to Alec, I hope Dot has already explained him to you- and I am sorry if he was a cause for worry, even if momentarily! He has actually offered to be the biggest help, and that is why I sent this letter separately to the other one: I have a proposition for you. 

Screw The Orient, Jack. Alec has offered to fly you over to me, a favour for a friend of his wife (who happens to be just like me, oh Jack, how you’d love to rib Daisy about stumbling over crime scenes!), and come after me much sooner than either of us could have ever expected. I told Alec our history of sorts, and he has agreed to do his level best to get you here safely- back to me in one piece. I asked him to call at Wardlow on the evening of the 2nd of September in hopes that this letter would have made it to you, and that you would have read it, and still be there to give him an answer. The sooner you come, the sooner we can start on this case, be together again, and the sooner mother can be off my back. 

I truly hope to see you soon, Jack. 

All my love, and eagerly awaiting your arrival, 

P.

P.s. The ring is my mother’s engagement ring, given to her by Aunt Prudence as a gift because my Father couldn’t afford one. Don’t lose it before you arrive!” 

Jack tipped the envelope upside down, and a mother of pearl engagement ring clattered onto the kitchen table as its three occupants leaned over to get a closer look at it. 

“Gosh,” said Mr. Butler softly, 

“Mrs Butler would have adored seeing this.” 

Jack turned to Dot with a frown on his brow, and started to speak

“She can’t mean-” 

Before Jack had the chance to voice his sudden concern, however, a knock echoed on the back door, and Mr. Butler stood to open the door as a tall, well-built man in a suit entered. 

“Hullo!” he said with a cheery smile, grinning at both Dot and Mr. Butler as if he was well acquainted with them, before turning to Jack, and extending his hand. 

“I’m Alec Fletcher- you must be Phryne’s detective!” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yes I’m shamelessly doing a partial crossover with my other favourite 1920’s couple, because I love them too much, and I just had the next four Daisy Dalyrmple books delivered!!


	3. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big hugs to Mai for beta-ing, and to DeVereWinterton for putting up with all my complaints about writing and outlining!

Jack let his jaw dangle in the air for a second, before he found his composure once more, and stood up, taking the man’s proffered hand and shaking it with a firm grip, before shooting him a smile. 

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson,” he said with a laugh, gesturing for the other man to sit down at the vacant seat at the table,   
“Though I suppose ‘Phryne’s detective’ is also an accurate job title for me to take too.” 

Alec let out a deep laugh, and Jack realised why Phryne would get along so well with someone like this that it ended up with him being asked to fly her current… love interest 12,000 miles to where she was puzzling over a case. The man was very similar to how Jack saw himself in a favourable light: open-hearted and open-minded, kind, happy to help anyone who was in a situation where they needed someone strong to fall back on. He nodded to himself- it was decided: he would do his best to find a friend in Alec Fletcher, for it was likely that under the surface, they had more in common than women who all but tripped over dead bodies. 

While Jack had been floating around in his world of ‘deciding whether or not to like someone’, Dot had poured another round of tea, and Mr. Butler had placed the biscuit tin on the table. Once Jack realised the tin was there, he thankfully took a handful before making eye contact with Alec again. Alec, on the other hand, avoided the eye contact entirely and busied himself with pulling a notebook and pencil out of his pocket. A smile crossed Jack’s face as he was reminded of something Phryne had said in the past, what was it? You can take the police officer out of City South, but you can’t take the City South out of the police officer? He figured it was likely the same for those who worked at similar police stations overseas, and Jack stifled a laugh as he thought of Phryne’s smiling face whenever she got a chance to tease him when caught off guard about quite how much of a dour policeman he was. Alec let out a nearly impatient sounding cough, and Jack grabbed another biscuit in an attempt to stern up once more, letting his mind go back to the task at hand. 

Alec opened his notebook and looked at the photos that lay scattered across the table, quietly scribbled a couple of notes down, before looking up expectantly at Jack. 

“I assume she’s told you why you’re here?” 

A furrow quickly appeared in Jack’s brow, and Alec let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples with his fingertips in an attempt to soothe the headache that he could feel brewing. From what his wife had told him before he had flown away from his homeland on some confusing mission for a woman he barely knew, not telling people what was going on was Phryne’s stock in trade. Alec had heard many tales of this honourable whirlwind of a woman while sat nursing a whiskey in front of the fire that they managed to keep roaring in his cottage’s sitting room grate most days. The stories of The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher served most wonderfully as bedtime entertainment for his daughter, Belinda, and both of the twins, who were getting to the age where they could truly appreciate a good mystery story. Every month or so, Daisy would receive a small parcel from Australia, filled with a couple of letters and small trinkets for the children, and every time that a package did arrive, the doting parents bent the bedtime rules just a little bit, and letting their young charges stay up to hear of what their fondly referred to ‘Aunt Fryee’ had been up to as of late. 

Most of the letters, Alec reminded himself, reaching for the cup of tea that sat in front of him and directing a dazzling smile at Mrs Collins, did include mentions of Phryne at some point, keeping a piece of evidence from the police, or not mentioning her plans to the detective inspector with whom she worked with so frequently. The detective in question sat across from Alec at that moment, fiddling with his tie, and clearly trying to not think too hard about the fact that no one in the room seemed to have any understanding of what the ridiculous woman he was always chasing after actually wanted or needed them to do. 

Dot Collins let out a little huff, and Alec, in turn, sighed before turning back to Jack. 

“You really mean to tell me that she’s told you nothing?” 

His question was met with a moment’s worth of silence while Jack attempted to gather his thoughts and not let his first decent piece of conversation with the other detective be an emotion-filled outburst. When he did speak, his voice was surprisingly soft, and Alec was hit with a shock of surprise by how much this man clearly cared for Phryne. 

“All I know is that she’s in England and that she’s found a case,” Jack said, looking down at the table once more and filtering the many photos that lay there through his fingers, stopping each time Phryne appeared in a photo and letting a downturned smile play upon his lips. 

“I know that she works cases without me all the time and that she’s perfectly capable of keeping herself safe, but her letters were so vague… I worry sometimes.” 

Alec’s fingertips returned to massaging his temples, and yet another frustrated look crossed his face, causing Mr. Butler to once more reach for the whiskey and pour a tipple into a spare glass for what seemed to be yet another long-suffering detective inspector that Phryne had taken under her wings. So much as he did adore working for the lady of the house, he did sometimes wonder what it would be like to work someone like Inspector Robinson, who appreciated the quiet life a little more than he did parties in the parlour and drinking like a fish on evenings when the pain of a lost sister was too much to bear. The poor man was brought back to the present by Inspector Fletcher flicking through his clearly police issue notebook, and tearing out a few pages before sliding them over to Jack and opening his mouth to offer some form of explanation while his Australian twin of sorts tried to read the notes that were written in a scripture even worse than his own. 

“I’m sure Phryne won’t want me to explain the entire ordeal to you,” Alec said, turning his attention to the pictures that Dorothy had stacked in some form of order,   
“But your lady detective seems to have stumbled across a string of women going missing in the upper circles of the British aristocracy. Awfully inconvenient, as the men are so fond of keeping tabs on their wives wherever they go, though, that is the funny part.” 

Jack affixed Alec with a half-glare that told him it wasn’t very funny at all that Phryne was attempting to commandeer a case alone and overseas, but Alec didn’t let that stop him from continuing on in his explanation. 

“Phryne thinks the whole keeping tabs on their wives ordeal isn’t the main issue- every time there is a ball, a woman just… disappears, for want of a better word. One second they’re dancing with their husband, next second they’re not. I was at one of the balls with Daisy when she first mentioned this whole scheme to bring you over to her- she thinks there’s something really fishy about the situation, but obviously she can’t ask too many questions-”

“-because she’s a single woman in a romanticised world.” finished Jack, a sigh threatening to break out once more. He knew all too well that a woman who even talked too much to men could be considered to have too much of an interest in him, and that it would likely end the same way many of her interests in men did- with a fling, which would completely disregard the idea of him going after her. For a brief moment, Jack felt hope spring into his chest. Phryne wouldn’t usually let something so silly as a man accidentally falling for her stop her from investigating, and his heart swelled with something akin to pride. She was serious about him- serious about their blossoming relationship, and it was with a slight smile on his lips that he looked back at the papers Alec had shuffled over to him earlier. 

“So if it’s all to do with women going missing at balls,” he said, pointing to a couple of the notes in Phryne’s messy script and the other detective inspector’s notes,   
“Why does she mention fiancees and marriages so much?” 

Alec took the papers back, folded them, and slipped them back into his notebook, smoothing them as a worn photo fell out of the pages. A fond smile overtook his face, and both Dot and Jack leaned over to catch a glimpse of a smiling woman with two young children on her lap, and a girl stood off to the side. Dot shot a warm smile at him.

“Are those your wife and children!?” she said with excitement bubbling in her voice, and Alec let out a laugh in return. 

“They are,” he said gently,   
“Daisy, Belinda, and the twins- and actually Belinda is the one who noted that engaged couples were coming into play in the case. I would be annoyed that she was out of bed and eavesdropping on Phryne’s conversation with my wife, but I guess her young mind noted something that we all saw as utterly irrelevant.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow as Inspector Fletcher slipped the photo back into his notebook and hid it back in the inner pocket of his jacket. His mind was all but racing. How on earth had a girl of what, no more than fifteen or so by the looks of it, noticed a case detail that his Miss Fisher had even missed! Dot seemed to notice the sudden furrow that had appeared in Jack’s brow at the mention of one so young managing to find a clue that could have been vital to the case that none of them had any idea about yet, and when she spoke up, it was in soothing tones- the kind that she had frequently used when Miss Fisher was having an especially bad day thinking about her sister in the weeks after they had discovered Janey’s body. 

“Just think, Inspector,” she said with a kind smile,   
“Miss Phryne is training up intrepid young detectives when she’s not even in her home country!” 

Jack stifled a laugh at that, and Alec looked over at Dot sternly. 

“It’s enough with one woman in the family meddling in police affairs!” he said forcefully,   
“I absolutely don’t need two of them putting together puzzles that don’t truly concern them!” 

A cry of annoyance rose in Jack’s chest, and he felt as if he could scream out of annoyance. He had thought of Alec Fletcher to be a decent man, yet his suddenly condescending manner and scorn for his wife in such a short amount of time was starting to make him want to think otherwise. Jack took in a calming breath before speaking up once more, trying to get his emotions in check. After all: Fletcher hadn’t been criticising Miss Fisher, so it should hardly matter to him.   
“Well then,” he said in a cold tone,   
“Would you mind awfully sharing what your daughter, wife and visiting Australian lady detective put together, Mr. Fletcher, or should I figure it out for myself?”

Alec paused for a moment, looking at Jack in an inquisitive manner- he was quite confused by this detective that Phryne was so fond of. She had described him as a man who showed few emotions; who held his cards close to his chest, and had one of the ‘sharpest minds that Melbourne had ever known’. She had also mentioned him as having a heart that ran as deep as the Pacific Ocean, and more passions than he would ever willingly admit. It was only when Alec Fletcher reminded himself of that, that he was able to see why the sudden anger seemed to have made itself present on the visage of the man who was sitting nearby. Inspector Robinson had taken the usual ribbing of Mrs Fletcher to not be one meant in jest, but as a personal attack on all women who busied themselves in investigative matters and happened to fall over bodies as they fell down. 

Alec coughed and made as to speak once more, but before he could, Dot piped up from where she had been sitting silently sipping her tea and looking at the mess of notes they had procured from Miss Fisher’s parcel. 

“Inspectors!” she said with a gasp, her features almost creating a perfect ‘o’.

Both men turned to affix her with a sharp gaze, and Dot couldn’t help but feel a little bit worried as she started to speak up, pointing to lines on the paper as she did so. 

“This is a list of names,” she said softly,   
“And every so often, there is a red or a green dot next to the names of some of the women.”

Jack nodded. He too had noticed the coloured dots on the paper, but thought nothing of them- passing them off as the testing of new inks that Phryne occasionally pilfered his paperwork for, or simply just bad quality paper causing ink from other sheets to leak through. Alec, on the other hand, had not noticed them when he had briefly looked over the sheets earlier, and nodded for Dot to continue with her explanation. 

“I looked at some of the photos while you two were talking,” continued Dot, fanning out a selection that she had pulled from the piles,   
“And the list of names on the paper match up with the photos of the women who were engaged to their husbands-to-be within the last month or so before Miss Fisher arrived in England.”

Jack leaned over her arm and looked at the list and photos with a frown on his brow. 

“So green is recently engaged and red is....”

“...married already” finished Alec, removing another page of Phryne’s notes from the table,  
“And that’s what Belinda somehow managed to eavesdrop her way into figuring out: the only women who have been going missing are the ones who are recently engaged, and have set their wedding plans longer than four months away.” 

Jack swore under his breath as Alec’s words sunk in along with what Dot had shown them. He picked up the mother of pearl ring off of the table where it had sat uselessly for the last half an hour, and a grim look came across his face. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said quietly as the reasons Phryne had tried to keep her plan in the dark all clicked into place. 

“Her mother-” 

“It would just be a ruse,” said Dot, her voice shaking,  
“I love Miss Phryne, but even she wouldn’t be so stupid as to try such a thing.”

Dot looked over at Jack, her eyes filling with teary concern. Alec watched the two of them, completely clueless as to what was occurring. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken conversation going on between the two members of Phryne’s ragtag family that he had come to converse with, and he turned to Mr. Butler for some form of explanation, but the man just shrugged.

After a moment, Jack turned to Alec and started to pile up the papers on the table, tying them together with a piece of string that Dot had offered him. After putting the offending ring in his blazer pocket, he pushed back his chair with a scrape and looked Alec dead in the eye. 

“How soon can we leave.” His voice was cool, calm and collected, and Alec was struck dumb by the other detective’s sudden change in emotion- from hot to cold, and then back again in a matter of seconds. He rubbed his hands together and stood up, walking around the kitchen to look at the calendar that hung in the alcove. 

“If we’re snappy about it, we could leave tomorrow morning.” he said, pointing at the dates on the paper before turning back to Jack. 

Jack nodded and made as if to leave the room, before turning back. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly,   
“So much.” 

With that, Jack left the room, and Chief Detective Inspector Fletcher of Scotland Yard turned to Mrs Collins who was now sat peacefully at the table darning stockings that had appeared from nowhere. 

“Surely he needs to know-” 

Dot huffed, and cut him off. 

“Inspector Robinson will be just fine,” she said firmly,   
“And if you need to tell him anything, I can call him for you. It’s not so difficult, Mr Fletcher.” 

She turned back to her stockings once more, before piping up one final time, 

“He’s kept his emotions in check for the better part of three years, and I’m sure he’ll manage to for a couple more weeks.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This daily update thing isn’t going to last long let me assure you, but WOW! THE LOVE I AM GETTING FROM THIS FIC? You GUYS! I’m going to cry. It means so much to me. <3  
> Also- I outlined my chapters today, and we should have 18 in all: I’m still riding the rollercoaster and writing as I go, but I finally have motives and characters that I’m so excited to share with you all. Miss fisher island is the best, I hope you all know that xoxo


	4. The Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, but I put Jack through a ROLLERCOASTER worth of emotions in this chapter. I promise we’ll be onto happier times in just two chapters time!! Hugs to Mai again for being my lovely, lovely beta <3

Jack managed to make it back to his cottage in Richmond, unlock the front door and then close it behind him before a sob wracked his body and he had to lean against the wall for more than a moment to get his feeling back in check. He stood, for more than a couple of minutes with his head pressed against the cool glass of the mirror that hung in his entryway, before getting back up, and looking at himself, grimacing at his reflection. There were bags under his eyes that definitely hadn’t been there before, and a shadow seemed to hang over his entire face, cloaking in the gloom of which he felt. The stubble on his jaw was much more pronounced than he would ever usually let it get, and reaching a hand up to run it across his face, Jack felt the short hairs scratch across the soft skin of his palm. No wonder Inspector Fletcher had made no effort to make eye contact with him the entire time that he had been sat across the table from him, thought Jack, shrugging off his coat and hanging it before making his way into the kitchen and letting out a groan of relief as he opened the door to the pantry. 

One of the few non-essential luxuries that Jack kept around his home even though there was absolutely no need was something, or more specifically someone that Rosie Sanderson had introduced into his life at least seven years ago: a housekeeper. When Jack had first filed for divorce from the woman who had not so much as broken his heart, but instead, politely battered it with a hammer before trying to fix it with sticking plaster; he had very much expected that Mrs Pembroke would have ended up being one of the many things that she took with her to her father’s home, but he was pleasantly mistaken. 

It was at times such as these- the more emotionally draining times- that Jack was ridiculously grateful for Mrs Pembroke’s existence. So much as he adored the cooking of Mr. Butler, and was equally as happy to receive the baked goods that Dorothy Collins dropped off at City South on the daily, sometimes, Jack just wanted to return home, eat a quick meal, and go to sleep: an easy solution to stopping the overactive mind, he had once been told. 

Reaching for the kettle that sat cold on his stovetop, Jack filled it with a measure of water before placing it back on the stove and turning on the gas to light it, before opening the cupboard, pulling out a tin of biscuits, and sinking back into the chair at the head of his kitchen table and with the crunch of an Anzac biscuit, allowing his mind to wander once more, back to the thoughts he had been happier about only a few short weeks ago.   
  


+  
  


_The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, and as Jack stepped out of the police automobile, he could see the yellow plane in the distance, a beacon in what was an otherwise dull world. He had known that he couldn’t just let Phryne fly off with her father without saying goodbye, no matter how ridiculous the parting remarks of a police officer may seem to any third parties involved in their au revoir._   
_The woman who Jack’s heart adored so dearly seemed to be arguing with her father from a distance, but as soon as she noticed that Jack was at the airfield, all semblance of care seemed to drop from her as she ran towards him, both of them running until they all but collided and she practically threw herself into his arms._

_“Jack.”_

_“Phryne.”_

_Both of their voices were soft, and there was a tender look in Jack’s eyes that Phryne had never seen before- one of such love and care that she felt as if she had no choice but to make the overture that she had wanted to at her companion’s wedding the night before, but had simply not been given the chance._

_“Come after me.” her voice was almost a whisper, and she watched as a grin spread across her detective inspector’s visage._

_“What did you say?”_

_“It was a romantic overture.”_

_Jack had been quite overcome with emotion at that point, and if people had been watching closely, they might have been able to see a tear threatening to spill from his dark eyes, and a true smile spread across his lips._

_“Say it again.” he knew that once upon a time, asking her to repeat even a marginally romantic statement would result in his head likely being bitten off in a sudden surge of anger, but this time, he was only met with a gentle smile and the quiet repeat of:_

_“Come after me, Jack Robins-”_

Jack’s happy thoughts of warmer days spent on an airfield with a certain lady detective’s lips on his own were interrupted by the sharp shriek of the teakettle proclaiming its warmth, and he stood up from the table with what could only be described as a lovesick grin on his lips. As he grabbed a teapot and poured the boiled water over the heaping pile of tea leaves that were already in there, Jack let his mind wander back to the conversation that had been held with Mrs Collins and Detective Inspector Fletcher over Miss Fisher’s kitchen table in the hours gone past. 

If Jack was being completely honest with himself, he had been a little bit harsh towards Alec Fletcher, but with no good reason. He did miss Phryne- ridiculously so, but his emotions should not have been able to hold grounds for such a chill tone having overtaken him for the entire conversation. Perhaps it was for the best that Jack had taken his leave before Dot would have likely invited both himself and the other detective to stay for tea, as that would have made for an incredibly awkward meal. 

Sipping at his cup of tea, Jack picked up the biscuit tin in his spare hand and made his way through to his sitting room to ponder over his thoughts a little bit more, in a space that was so quintessentially his own, smiling as he flicked on a side lamp and the room was lit with a soft glow. 

Jack had always thought that Miss Fisher would have appreciated his parlour if she had ever managed to make it around to his home. Unfortunately, now that she was out of the country and he was having to go after her to attempt to fix yet another of her hair-brained schemes, it was unlikely that he would ever get to have Phryne in his parlour. Jack inwardly cringed at the choice of words that his inner monologue had chosen as he placed his mug of tea and the biscuit box onto the coffee table that was the room’s centrepiece, before slipping off his jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, and rolling up his shirtsleeves to the elbow, before rubbing one hand to his forehead and falling back into his favourite armchair. From just one badly worded thought, the room suddenly seemed a little too warm, and Jack silently cursed himself as he picked up his mug and took a sip from it. There was a certain part of him that wanted to _have_ Phryne in his parlour, but that was not a thought he planned on dwelling upon for all too long. 

The parlour itself was a small, road facing room that had walls lined with bookshelves, and other books stacked in haphazard piles throughout the space. The room’s best feature, however, was a window seat inside a set of clear bay windows that constantly let light into the room. After the mess of his divorce from Rosie and the need to find a home for himself, the light had been one of the reasons that Jack had been so enamoured by the little cottage on Myrtle Street. The brightness of such a place after all the gloom of his previous residence had been like a breath of fresh air, and as soon as Jack had started to fill the house with his own belongings and things that would truly make it a home, he had found his whole outlook on life had become so much more airy and freeing. 

It had taken him no more than a few weeks to settle into the lifestyle of living alone- going from the hustle and bustle of City South to a calm, quiet home; though he did suppose that every evening when he had returned to Rosie, it had been equally as quiet: neither of them talking as they ate yet another silent dinner, and both of them slinking off to their respective rooms as soon as the dishes were dried up and packed away. At Myrtle Street, however, even though Jack still returned home to a quiet and empty home on the evenings that he wasn’t stuck with working nights, it was with more of a bounce in his step that he would key open the front door and get to cooking a meal for himself; candles burning in the background on nights that he didn’t set a fire, jazz records playing in the background, and more often than not, a drink in his armchair with the delightful addition of Shakespeare, poetry or writing in his case notebooks to round off the evening.

In the present, Jack stretched and considered how he could spend his last evening at home before he was once more swept up into the whirlwind that was the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher’s life. There was, of course, the obvious thing to do, which would be to eat dinner and get a good night’s rest before packing, though, in Jack’s mind- when had the obvious thing to do ever been the right thing where Miss Fisher was concerned? A laugh pushed its way out of his lips, and he felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Never. The answer was never. No one in their right mind would ever do the logical thing when it came to Miss Fisher, unless, of course, your name was Dorothy Collins, and you were meant to be darning tights. 

Jack felt a furrow appear in his brow, and he sat and thought for a second, before pushing up out of his armchair (which, he thought to himself, was definitely big enough for two should the time or opportunity ever arise), and making his way across the room to gaze out of the window at the golden glow the setting sun was casting across the garden. Long fingers of light made their way across his lawn, and a smile suddenly made its way onto his face. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he could take the time to pack his case rather than eat dinner- get one thing in order before everything was flung out of order once more. Jack nodded to himself, and walking away from the window, pulled the drapes closed with a flourish. Personal privacy wasn’t usually very much of a big deal when he was home alone, but knowing that he would likely end up finalising the items in his suitcase in the sitting room, he thought it best to close the curtains anyway. It would be just to his luck that his neighbour would poke her nose over his garden wall and notice him trawling through items, and the next morning when he left, he would be met with the Spanish bloody Inquisition and knowing his luck, would be utterly unable to keep an expressionless face when asked as to why he was off in such a hurry.

Walking around the room in a state of confusion, and then being hit with remembrance, Jack knelt down next to the chaise in the corner of the room and pulled out a battered leather suitcase, grinning and he placed it on the seat and sat down next to it in hopes of opening it up. The case seemed a little heavier than he remembered, but that was fine- after all, he was no longer a strapping lad of eighteen going off to fight overseas, but a fine-aged man who was closing in on his 40th birthday much quicker than he would have cared to disclose. With a wry smile, Jack flicked open the clap on the case and eased open the hinges, ready to find absolutely nothing within. 

“Oh.”

His voice punctuated the air of the cottage somewhat louder than he had anticipated, and a look of shock settled primly upon his brow. The case, to his great surprise, was not empty. Instead, every nook and cranny of the case was filled with carefully stacked police-issued notebooks, one on top of the other, each with a white label affixed to their front. 

Jack reached for the top notebook, and pulled it out carefully, noting the date that was stamped on the front as being from July 1928. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he flipped open the cover and was met with his familiar messy scrawl cramming every inch of the paper. 

_Andrews, Case 27, July ‘28._   
_Woman poisoned her husband, the usual domestic case of “but what if my idiot of a husband makes off with the servants and my dignity”. Woman was an emotional wreck but that was only to be expected under the circumstances. Cocaine smuggling ring was also uncovered due to an unofficial third party interfering with police business. Talk to The Honourable Miss Fisher about the role she played in the case. Politely asked her to refrain from interfering in things that are of no matter to her, yet I have a feeling the woman simply won’t listen. She’s one of those society types that just seems to do what they want with a complete disregard for the wellbeing of anyone else. NOTE: she knows the communist cab drivers._

Jack picked up another notebook, the unease in his stomach growing a little more. These were his professional notebooks, even though they were not the notes he turned in to Commissioner Hall at the end of each month, yet they were supposed to be able to be passed down to new constables to show them the kind of things that they may have to deal with in their future with the Victorian Constabulary. The feeling in Jack’s stomach was a polite reminder to him that these notebooks had strayed a little far from the ‘professional’ side of matters- hence why the next few ones he looked through ended up not being a cause for surprise, but rather an annoying bubble of desire. 

_Green Mill, Case 28, August 11 ‘28._   
_Why do people get married? I swear it only ever causes issues that end up in murder, and perhaps it is better that Rosie is still living with her sister, even if she said she would only stay away for a few days. On another note, it’s ridiculous that men can’t be with one another- perhaps upkeeping the law would be simpler if half the laws weren’t so ridiculous._   
_The socialite was back at my crime scene again- need to talk to the officers about keeping an eye on speakeasies and letting commoners secure crime scenes. Also, talk with the commissioner about the possibilities of employing a female constable._   
_EVIDENCE: PHOTO PLATES ARE NOT A NECESSARY EXPLANATION_

_+_

_Sarcelle/ DuBois, Case 33, October 6 ‘28._   
_More or less a mess of things from the past coming up in a reoccurring fashion. Communist cab drivers DO NOT understand the idea of listening to what the police say, and men from France should be background checked by law before being allowed into Australia (at least, that’s how I feel now). The woman I met over Mr Andrews' dead body a few months ago, and over a lot of other cases, was back again, with yet another personal tie to this one. Rosie continues to live with her sister (not that this is at all relevant to my case notes), and I feel something for Miss Fisher. I’m not sure what, yet, but I wonder if all hybrid Melbourne-England society types kiss how she does? If anyone asks for an official report, Collins should hopefully have better notes than I do on this one. Miss Fisher tastes of sweet tea; that is the only evidence I have to report from this case._

_+_

_Queenscliff, Case 45, January 26 ‘29._   
_Completely unofficial case- should have been left to the Queenscliff police, but the Sargent was utterly incompetent. Collins and myself were called in by Miss Fisher as consultants, the case itself was an easy solve, yet motives were difficult._   
_NOTE: Ask Miss Fisher how she figured it out._   
_NOTE 2: Contact dry cleaners about sorting out wool suits that have taken a plunge in the ocean._   
_NOTE 3: Call Uncle Ted. Thank him for the coin collection_   
_NOTE 4: Find out what perfume Miss Fisher uses, buy her some as a birthday present._

+

Jack quickly closed the notebooks, and put them back into the suitcase, before closing the buckles, and putting it back under the seat where he had found it. Part of him wanted to read more of what he had written, but another part of him- the sensible part- knew that that wasn’t such a good idea. From after Queenscliff, if his memory served him rightly, the notebooks got less and less professional at a snowballing rate. It would be quite unsafe to continue reading if he wanted to sleep that evening, considering that there would be mentions of what he knew were lethal dresses, near kisses at a football match, and his fear for Phryne’s life both at the chalet in the alps and when a deranged idiot had almost punctured her throat with a sword. 

Jack was overcome with a sudden feeling of sadness and lay back on his seat with a sigh. He missed her, and he was worried. He was a man of few certain feelings, and as Inspector Fletcher had reminded him, kept his feelings very close to his chest, yet right now, he was overcome with emotion, and nausea churned in his stomach. It had very suddenly set in that he had no idea if Phryne was safe- if she was genuinely trying to solve a case herself, or if things were too much for her and she was lost in the aristocratic world of upper-class England. Jack pulled a pillow over his face, and let out a groan. He truly needed a reminder of why he had fallen for this woman, sometimes, he thought, as he felt himself slipping off into what he knew would be a broken night’s sleep. Other times, Phryne made it so worth loving her- almost all of the time. It was at moments like these, however, lying on the sofa, half asleep with nothing but love and worry taking up space in his mind, that Jack could never quite tell if the highs were worth the lows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again: the support I’m getting from this fic is overwhelming. Tomorrow I’ll likely take a break to post for the “break down the door” challenge, but I hope to be back to this story very shortly, because it’s almost writing itself!


	5. The Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... literally just a filler chapter that I NEEDED to write. I promise the reunion is soon guys, it’s literally the next chapter <3
> 
> Hugs to Mai for beta-ing!

Alec Fletcher was not a man for early mornings unless he really had to be. At home in England, he was more than happy to stay in bed past the crack of dawn on the weekends, relishing in the happiness brought to him by warm sheets and his wife’s body pressed into his side, a smile on her face as she recounted her week to him, speaking of all the grand homes she had had the pleasure of visiting and photographing. Most weekends, they would stay in bed until about nine, or later if Belinda made the informed choice to help the nanny tend to the twins, and only wake when something so dire as Alec being hungry decided to put a pin in their warm, sunlight kisses. 

On this morning, however, Alec found himself awakened by the sound of a door creaking, and his body complaining of what had clearly been an uncomfortable sleeping position. When he rolled over, the other side of his bed was cold, and he was unamused to find that it was not, in fact, his wife who was opening the door to their room, but rather the butler who had been floating around his sleeping quarters for the last seven hours or so. The man had a tray of what smelt suspiciously like strong coffee and toast in one hand, and was waiting on the other side of the door’s threshold for the room’s occupant to say a word before he even considered entering. 

“Good morning, Sir,” said the greying man politely, walking into the room and pulling open the curtains, yet somehow not managing to make the room any lighter. Alec stretched and reached for the wristwatch that he had placed on his nightstand before falling into a restless slumber the night before, just as the butler spoke up again. 

“It’s four thirty, Sir- you asked me to wake you so that you could get ready for the airfield and swing by Inspector Robinson’s home before you both had to leave for England? I’ve prepared coffee, and Dorothy has sorted your flying gear when you’re ready to come downstairs.”

Alec groaned, and Mr. Butler smiled, lighting the lamp in the corner of the guest room, and taking Inspector Fletcher’s flying clothes from where they hung on the edge of the dressing screen as the man pulled himself out of bed and straightened his blue and white striped pyjamas. 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler.” he said, taking the proffered shirt and loose trousers from the other man’s grasp, placing them on the bed and taking a deep sip of the coffee that had been placed on the side table. Mr. Butler nodded and smiled at the detective inspector before slinking out of the door and closing it behind him, thinking quietly to himself. Of all the detectives he had expected to stay the night at some point, Mr Fletcher would not have been his first guess. As a curse erupted from the guest room and the sound of a falling mug could be heard, Mr Butler let out a sigh, quickly making his way down to the kitchen to find some cloths to mop up what he supposed was likely to be a half spilled pot of coffee. That did surprise him in a way, he thought to himself- Mr Fletcher had seemed like a careful man, and careful men didn’t usually spill French-presses full of the highest quality drinks all over someone else’s cream carpet. 

As Mr. Butler gathered cloths from the kitchen drawer, Dot reappeared in the kitchen, and started to tend to the pot of tea that she had left brewing when he had first awoken her at this ridiculously early hour to get both the inspectors off to the airfield. A yawn escaped her mouth as she poured the tea, and Mr. Butler shot a sorry smile in her direction as she screwed the cap on the thermos, before placing it in a waiting basket on the table. 

“Tired, Dorothy?” 

Dot nodded, and stretching slightly, before turning back to the countertop where the necessary supplies to make sandwiches were laid out. 

“You could say so, Mr. B.” she said quietly, spreading butter on the bread and topping each with cheese, ham, and mustard pickle, followed by another slice of soft, fresh bread. 

“If I’m honest, I didn’t sleep particularly well.” 

Mr Butler nodded understandingly, and patted Dot on the shoulder as she wrapped the sandwiches in brown paper. Although he may have seemed like the infallible, unflapper butler that Miss Fisher was so fond of singing praises about, he had not slept very well either. Other than the fact an uninvited overnight guest had him worrying about if he had polished the surfaces in the guest room, there was a rather large amount of worry in his mind about whether Miss Fisher truly was okay. As a good servant, he didn’t usually make any sort of effort to snoop into her private affairs; hence why at the table only a few hours ago, he had kept his nose in a newspaper rather than looking at the photos; yet there was a part of him that felt as if this whole situation was just a little too fishy for his liking. Inspector Robinson had certainly seemed worried, and this had hit a little too close to home for Mr. Butler, especially after how his own wife had come to her demise. 

For the two years that Tobias Butler had worked for the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher, he had almost lived as exciting a life as he had in the 60 years before entering into her emploi. He had battered robbers, helped make tea that ended up hitting men over the head who were trying to run a slave trade, he had made it to Queenscliff just in time to help his mistress with her work; and the entire time, he had done it with his recently deceased wife in his heart. Within weeks, he had been able to realise the similarities between the new woman he worked for, and his wife who he had loved so dearly. Both were thrill-seekers, who lived in the moment, with hearts far larger than they would ever be able to comfortably admit. Both would do anything for the ones they loved, and always put others first, and it was those similarities that kept Mr. Butler so happy to work for a modern woman who turned out to not, in fact, be the spinster he had initially imagined.

It was with a crash that Mr. Butler was drawn out of his thoughts, and he turned on his heel just in time to see Inspector Fletcher crash into Dot in the doorway and fumble with his bags and hat, before sitting down at the kitchen table and starting to apologise profusely to Dorothy. Of course, being Dot, she ended up in turn apologising to him too, and after a couple of moments, the kitchen fell silent, save for the sound of Dot finalising the things she was packing in the basket. 

Once all the sandwiches were wrapped and a few biscuits were slipped into the spare space in the wicker hamper, Dot wrapped the thermos in another cloth to keep it warm for longer, and covered the items of food with a gingham print cloth, before placing it on the table in front of the clearly tired detective inspector, who looked at her with what was akin to a frown upon his brow. 

“Food, Mr. Fletcher.” said Dot in a very tired voice, as if to offer an explanation,  
“The Inspector generally needs a basket if he’s going off on a long case.” 

A smile played across her lips, and Alec felt a headache attempt to start in his temples. Why, oh why had he agreed to do this for Phryne? He had originally only agreed to drop across a couple of letters and share a few case details, hoping that the inspector she spoke so highly of all the time would be able to make his own way to England, but it seemed as if that was not at all the case. Alec sniffed. He missed Daisy and Belinda horribly, and he would do anything to be attempting to read his newspaper while the twins crawled around his ankles than be sat a the kitchen table of someone who was practically a stranger, having a basket of food pressed into his arms by someone who had not even asked of his wellbeing- and the other inspector too- he seemed as if he had taken an instant dislike to Alec, for no reason at all! Alec crossed his arms, and leaned back in the chair: if this was to be how he and the other man got on, then the two and a half weeks of flying together would be very painful indeed! 

Alec turned to Dot, who was now busy making herself and Mr. Butler cups of tea from the remaining water, and let out a cough. 

“So when does the good inspector plan on joining us?” he said wryly, trying to make it seem as if he was more amused than offended by being woken up earlier than the birds even considered singing, only to find out that his charge had not yet even graced the house with his presence. 

Dot turned around from her tea-making with a furrow in her brow, and crossed her arms in an attempt to seem like she had it together at such an early hour. 

“I think you’ll find, Mr. Fletcher,” she said cooly,   
“That Inspector Robinson will likely arrive at five, which was when I told you last night that we were expecting him. He’s likely had as stressful a night as you trying to pack up his life on a whim and get his current affairs in order before he can leave the country to help Miss Fisher. It’s clear you didn’t listen to a word that either Mr. Butler or I said last night.”

The kitchen clock ticked to five, and a knock echoed at the back door, Inspector Robinson appearing out of the woodwork just as Dorothy knew that he would. A smile settled over her features and she nearly laughed at the shock that had settled upon the English detective’s face. 

“Besides,” she said, unable to help herself as she opened the kitchen door, nodding to a rather tired looking Jack before ushering Alec out with his suitcase and the basket of food,  
“Inspector Robinson is always on time.”

With that, Dot promptly closed the back door, sealing both the detectives out. It was far too early to deal with men disliking one another, she thought, as she pulled a chair up to the table and retrieved her darning from the basket by the pantry; far too early indeed. 

+

Dot’s assessment of the tension between the two detectives was spot on, and as soon as Alec climbed into the police motorcar that was waiting outside Wardlow’s front gate and tossed his luggage on the back seat, an awkward silence filled the air. For the entire drive to the airfield, both men were aware of the tension that hung in the air, yet neither of them commented on it- Alec choosing to rather look out the window at the passing landscape that made up Melbourne, and Jack filling his thoughts with memories of Phryne and how he hoped that their reunion would go. 

There was part of him that secretly wanted their reunion to go as so many reunions in novels and radio soaps did: the beautiful woman running toward her dashing hero, and him sweeping her up into his arms; the resulting image being one of love, and perhaps the smallest hint of passion. The woman (who by that point would have wrapped her legs around the waist of the man she loved), would eventually retrieve her sense from where she had momentarily lost then, and jump down from her man, grasping his hand and looking at him with such love in her eyes that he just had to kiss her once again. 

In reality, Jack knew their reunion was more likely to be as their first meeting had- both of them somehow stumbling over a dead body that wasn’t really supposed to be there, making eyes at one another, and then doing absolutely nothing to attempt to restart their relationship as anything more than professional for a good year and a half. As they drew up to the gates of the airfield and Jack brought the car to a halt, he let out a sigh, allowing his head to rest on the wheel for a moment. Alec looked over at him with a frown. 

“Are you quite alright?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence as Jack ran a hand through his hair, letting loose the curls that he had tried to tame with pomade only half an hour before. Jack drew in a deep breath, before turning to Alec. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Mr Fletcher,” he said quietly,   
“No, not really.” 

Alec raised an eyebrow. From what he had gathered, Inspector Robinson was a dour man, who rarely, if ever, showed much emotion to the general public. When Mr. Butler and Dorothy had been talking the night before (even if they had thought him not to be listening), Alec had paid attention as they spoke of quite how much they thought Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson meant to one another. From what he had gathered, it was quite a lot, and he made a valiant effort to tune into what the other man was saying. 

“I’m worried about Phryne.”

Jack knew he had said it before, and voiced his concerns at the kitchen table before any of the ‘going after’ Phryne had truly felt real, yet here he was, sitting in his car at an airfield with someone who had flown halfway around the world just to make sure he could help the woman he loved. 

Alec shifted in his seat.

“I know, mate.” he said with a downturned smile, not to similar to one of Jack’s own,   
“I feel the same way about Daisy- Lord only knows what she’s gotten up to while I’ve been away. The woman’s trying to juggle three kids, a journalism career, and will no doubt have fallen over at least three dead bodies by the time I get home!” He chuckled, and to his great surprise, Jack let out a slight laugh too. 

“That’s how I’ve felt the entire time that Phryne has been gone,” Jack confessed,   
“Worried about her, but just knowing that she would manage to find something to occupy her overseas while I’m gone- until I could go after her.” he took a breath before continuing.   
“You know, I wasn’t planning to go after her, even though she asked me to?” 

Alec frowned, and Jack jerked his head to one side, deciding to get out of the car before continuing their conversation. As he grabbed the cases out of the trunk, and locked up the doors, he maintained a steady stream of speech, and Alec listened all the while, both of them advancing across the short, cropped grass toward the hangar. 

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go after her,” Jack said in a manner far more peaceful than Alec had expected as the two of them wrenched open the doors to the hangar and made their way inside, starting to stow away their bags in the small hold that the two seater plane offered,

“I just didn’t know how to go after her.” 

Jack’s confession rang around the hangar far louder than he had anticipated, and a strange sort of lightness came about his heart. He hadn’t originally planned on ever voicing the true reason why he had never made plans to properly go after Phryne on his own, and now that he had, he felt rather a lot better about the outlook of life as a whole. 

Alec paused from where he was standing sorting the flying goggles that he had pulled out of one of his cases, and tossed Jack the other pair from a hook on the hangar wall. 

“Great Scott,” he said with a smile, a newfound respect for the man blooming in his mind,   
“You really do love her, don’t you.” 

Jack felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth, and pulling on the flying goggles, walked around to the opposite wing of the plane to help Alec move it outside and onto the strip of grass where only a month earlier, the woman who he did, in fact, love, had made her own romantic overture. 

“I think I do.” he said softly, walking to the front of the plane to ready it for take-off,  
“I really think I do.” 

Alec grinned from where he was adjusting the final parts of the plane that needed inspecting, and pulled the goggles down over his eyes from where they were sat on his forehead, before clambering up into the pilot’s seat. 

“Let’s go after then, shall we, Mr Robinson?” he said, smiling at Jack with a kind grin,   
“Contact?”

“Contact!” 

Jack clambered in the plane as the propellor started to move, and turned to Alec quickly before snapping his own goggles down.

“Call me Jack!” he shouted over the roar of the plane’s engine. 

Alec laughed as he maneuvered the plane onto the makeshift grass runway: perhaps he and the detective inspector that Phryne was so fond of would be able to get along after all- from what he had heard, it was a privilege to be offered the man’s first name to use. 


	6. The Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s what you’ve all been waiting for!

_Three weeks later..._

Jack Robinson passed the cab driver a handful of coins from the inner pocket of his coat and opened the door with a smile on his face, waiting for Alec to climb out after him before shutting the door and shooting the other detective a smile which was gladly returned. The two of them walked down the cobbled streets in a companionable silence; both of them absorbed in their own thoughts. Making their way up onto a bridge that stretched far across to the other bank of the River Thames, the road disappeared off into the distance, and the lull of the city continued to calm Jack’s mind.

Alec spoke up, the first to break the lull in conversation as he watched Jack start to take in the city for the first time. Being from London himself, and having worked a lot of cases in the area, Alec was completely familiar and at ease with the city- yet he still knew that for a newcomer, there was a certain amount of magic that the city held. Another part of himself silently supposed that if one had travelled halfway around the world after a woman who you seemed to love an awfully large amount, then the city would seem all the more wonderful: after all, it would be holding your heart in its palm. 

“Welcome to London.” 

Jack turned around in a slow circle, taking in the middle of the city from where the cab had dropped them on a large bridge, bustling with pedestrians and filled with the bright, rich colours of the high society that the city was home to. People were everywhere, he thought to himself, taking a step towards the barrier that ran along the edge of the bridge and leaning on it, giving himself a chance to simply watch what was going on around him, rather than actually be a part of it, as was more his style. Looking out across the tops of all the passerby’s' heads and across the river in the other direction, out to the bay that seemed to stretch away from him in an endless expanse of water, it suddenly hit him. He was in London. He had somehow- lord only knows how- made it to London, and had come after Phryne. His heart dropped into the soles of his sensible dress shoes before pitter-pattering back up into his chest and leaving him slightly breathless; the very same feeling that Phryne had given him one too many a time back in Melbourne. 

+

_“So what is it that made you fall for the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher in the first place- of all people!” Alec had said, stifling a laugh as he stirred his tea, the hot Indian sun beating down on their heads as they took a moment of repose at a tea shop in Bandar Abbas. The plane had needed refueling, and Alec had not wanted to push on much further than they had already gone in one day- hence, the two men found themselves sharing chai cookies, and stories of their respective women._

_Jack had let out a huff and sipped his drink, before leaning back in his chair, a contemplative look settling upon his brow._

_“Her spirit.” he had said simply, brushing a stray curl off of his forehead before reaching for another biscuit, mentally noting that if given the chance, he would very much appreciate the recipe for said biscuits._

_Alec had nodded at the mention of Phryne’s spirit. He knew all too well from conversations over dinner with his wife, daughter, and the woman herself that she was a bundle of light- someone who truly could light up a room just by entering, and made the best of every situation. The first time they had met- at one of the charity luncheons that Daisy’s mother was so fond of hosting, Alec’s first impression of the woman had been sceptical. She had seemed too good to be real- she floated above everyone else in the room, dividing her attention to everyone she could, treating each guest with kind words and actions of care and comfort. When a maid had dropped a tea tray and a quartet of glasses had fallen to the floor and smashed, Phryne had been the first to drop to her knees and comfort the poor girl, making sure she was alright before even considering the way Daisy’s mother had been losing her mind over the four ‘antique crystal glasses!’._

_Alec had been snapped out of his thoughts by Jack passing him a biscuit and asking him about what had been the chincher when it came to Daisy- and of course their relationship going from cohorts to engaged in a relatively quick fashion for the time- especially taking both of their mothers into account._

_A shrug had made itself known from his shoulders, and he had proclaimed that it was ‘certainly a mix of things’, before Jack raised an eyebrow and he had been persuaded into speaking further._

_“It was partly a desire to keep her safe.” he had said quietly, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips,_

_“She was so constantly falling over murders, but so truly trying to stay on her own path and not figure them out even when she was in danger, that there was a part of me that simply didn’t want her to ever get hurt. Chivalrous, I know.”_

_Both men had laughed, before Alec had added on,_

_“And her misleadingly guileless blue eyes probably played a part in it, too.”_

+

Jack shook the memories out of his head for a second, and smiled over at Alec, who was watching him attempt to take in the city with a bemused smile on his face, before a growl escaped from his stomach and broke the quiet bubble that Jack had created for himself in the hustle and bustle of the city. 

Alec guffawed and rolled his eyes. From what he had already heard from Phryne, her dear inspector had an insatiable appetite not dissimilar to his own, and it was likely that he once more needed some form of sustenance, for the last thing they had both eaten was awfully dry toast at the airfield when they had landed in the early hours of that morning. 

“Hungry, Jack?” 

Jack grinned, and pushed off from where he had been leaning on the side of the bridge. 

“Practically famished!” he said with a lilt of laughter in his voice, and Alec fixed his own scarf with a knowing nod. 

“There’s a nice tearoom around here somewhere,” he said kindly,   
“Perhaps we could acquire some sustenance before making an attempt to reunite you with your lady detective?”

Jack nodded and making a start, followed Alec as he weaved his way through the crowds, pushing past vendors selling the widest range of produce and other items, before making his way onto the slightly less crowded Victoria Street in hopes that the tea shop he had once visited with his constables during his pre-Daisy cases would still be there- they had made the best scones that constables at his branch of the Metropolitan Police Force had ever had the pleasure of tasting, and he had always hoped that he would have a chance to savour them again. So much as he was fond of Daisy sometimes making a valiant attempt to cook… sometimes it went better than others. 

Alec turned back for a moment to make sure that Jack was still following him close behind, and laughed to himself as Jack sidestepped two small children, but promptly managed to trip over a dog who was sunning himself in the middle of the street for no particular reason at all. When he turned back around to continue walking, however, his arms were suddenly filled with a flash of blue coat and ginger hair, and he blinked a couple of times before realising who it was and managing to stop himself from raising his voice unnecessarily. Jack came to a stop behind him, and the whirlwind that had appeared in Alec’s arms suddenly spoke up. 

“Hello darling!” 

The Honourable Miss Daisy Dalrymple Fletcher stepped out of Alec’s arms for a second, and let out a light laugh when she realised his bemused face and messed up coat, before reaching to smooth it and then adjusting her own hat that had been pushed to a jaunty angle after throwing herself into her husband’s arms. 

Alec let out a cough of laughter, before wrapping his arm around Daisy’s waist and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple to her complete surprise. When it came to public displays of affection, Alec usually wasn’t the best- leaning more toward a slightly stiff hug than so much as the idea of a kiss, and a light blush settled across her cheeks. Making the most of the moment, Daisy stood on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose, and he too did the same to her. Jack turned away momentarily to give them a moment of privacy while Daisy complained about having to re-powder her nose, but within a moment, she was quick to notice his presence; and taking in his overcoat, curls escaping their pomade, and suitcase in his left hand; realised who he was. 

“You must be Phryne’s inspector!” she said with a smile, her voice light and tone soft as she extended a hand, Alec’s arm still wrapped around her waist and her leaning against him somewhat, 

“I’m Daisy Fletcher- call me Daisy- Alec’s wife; and goodness, I’ve heard so much about you!” 

Jack shook Daisy’s hand with a firm hold, and noted her infectious energy. He could only imagine her as a schoolgirl with Phryne, both of them likely to have been bundles of energy that got into a little too much trouble. 

“Call me Jack.” he said with a grin, thinking about how he once again was referred to as Phryne’s inspector. He would have to have a talk with her about that when he saw her, he told himself, for his job title was certainly much more important than being associated with the woman he loved. He mentally laughed, imagining how that conversation would go down, before putting himself back in the present, catching the tail end of Alec’s conversation with his beloved.

“Darling, he’s just as gorgeous as she said he was! Can you believe he’s really here? After all the ridiculousness it took to get him here!?” 

Daisy clung onto her husband’s arm with a smile not moving from her lips, laughing when she realised that Jack was doing his level best to avoid watching their display of love out of trying to be polite, and detaching herself from Alec and offering her hand to take Jack’s suitcase, to which he promptly shook his head, continuing to hold it himself. 

“I promise you we’re not always like this!” she said, struggling not to giggle as Alec mouthed ‘she’s always like this’ behind her back. She swatted him fondly before returning to talking to Jack.   
“It’s just been an awfully long six weeks! The things he does for Miss Fisher- and she’s my school friend- you’d think they’d known one another for absolutely yonks, the way they go on!” 

Jack let out another laugh, and shook his head at Alec, causing Daisy to share a look between the two detective inspectors she had stopped in the street. 

Realising that Jack was not going to give up his suitcase any time soon, Daisy returned to Alec’s side and linked her arm through his, holding onto his bicep in a way so reminiscent to how Phryne had held onto his on their day out to Luna Park that Jack felt a bubble of emotion rise in his chest. Alec turned to look at Daisy fondly, raising an eyebrow at her clear need to be touching him, before speaking to her once again.

“What brought you out into the city today anyway, love?” he said with a tender smile,   
“Is something wrong with Lucy’s studio again? You said in your last telegram that you delivered your photos of Somerset House only last week- surely you don’t need to get them back for your article already?” 

Daisy furrowed her brow and opened her mouth as if to answer, but then shut it again. 

“Oh!” she let out in a squeak of surprise, looking at Jack and then shooting Alec a pointed look that didn’t go unnoticed by their Australian observer.

“Well- actually, darling, I was off to Somerset House to see if the owners would let me snap a few more photos of their entryway.” 

She pointed to the camera that had hung unnoticed at her side for the past few minutes, and Alec nodded, a look of fond understanding coming over his features once more as Daisy continued to talk. 

“I wanted to get a couple more photos of those tiles I mentioned before- the blue and gold ones next to the front door- they were beautiful!” 

Alec nodded, and looked at Jack. 

“Tea may have to wait,” he said with a laugh,   
“I have a feeling Daisy won’t want to let me go for a while, lest she fall over some plot of murderers while I’m away. If she’s up for it, you could come to Somerset House with us? I’m sure something would strike your interest, for it’s a very interesting home- didn’t you say you had an interest in botany?” 

Before Jack had a chance to answer, Daisy had looped her arm through his and he was being dragged along the city streets. 

“We’ll hail a cab!” she said with a smile, and looking over at Alec, scrunched up her nose in a look of what could only be classified as ‘ridiculously in love’.

“And it’s been months since I fell over a murder, darling, give me some credit! Besides- it’s never as if I enjoy the experience” 

She shuddered as they all stopped to climb in a cab, and once they had sat down, Alec leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her cheek as she cuddled into his side, both of them forgetting that Jack was even there. 

“I know, love.” 

Jack let out a quiet sigh- why had he and Phryne never had the chance to experience this- the kind of love where you kissed happily in the back of a cab while the city carried on around you? 

+

Somerset House was a grand old manor house on the very outskirts of the city, built before London had even considered growing to the sprawling mass that it was now-a-days. The architecture was of that quintessential style that had popped up in multiple countries in the late 1600’s, and even to the untrained eye, it was clear to see how well the home had been maintained over the years. 

As the cab made its way through arched gates, Jack’s eyes were drawn to the landscape of the home as if he had never seen a house so grand or beautiful before. A spire and dome topped main house was shrouded on both sides by towering additions, all areas of the home reaching their chimney tops up to the clear blue sky above. The gravel drive crunched under the cab’s tyres as they made their way around a large central oval of lush green grass, and Daisy sat up in her seat as they pulled up next to the incredible flight of steps that led up to the front door of the home. Grabbing her camera from where she had placed it by her feet, she pressed some notes into the cabbie’s hand before gesturing for Jack to push open the door and let them all outside. 

“You’re both welcome to come inside,” she said with a smile once they were out in the fresh air,   
“I’m almost certain the owners won’t mind too much!” 

Another smile was shot across at Alec after that phrase, and the two of them shared a knowing look, causing Jack to turn and look out across the gardens rather than puzzle for too long over what they knew and he did not. One hand set to fix his tie that was not quite as straight as he had wanted it to be, and he let his mind wander. Part of him wished that he hadn’t let Alec’s wife.. What was her name? Daisy? Pull him along on a photography trip when he could be eating scones in a tea shop in the city and figuring out how he would find Phryne without any concrete address- and the other part of him was glad to have a moment of peace. 

For the last three weeks, Jack thought to himself, he had no time to simply exist. Rather than faff around with cases that were far too simple for someone used to confusing murders, or spend time trying to help Collins understand the ins and outs of married life, Jack had spent most of his time in the front seat of a somewhat rickety airplane, just... thinking- and there had been a rather large amount for him to think about. 

Although Jack could hear Alec and Daisy making their way up the home’s front steps and then chatting amicably with the housekeeper, it didn’t cross his mind to even try and make an introduction when the doors opened to let the others inside, rather he wandered slightly further away from the front steps and slightly to the side, admiring the architecture as he continued thinking. 

He missed Phryne- he truly did; yet there was part of him that was not ready to admit how much he had missed her when they were able to finally reunite- hopefully later on that day. Would she be happy to see him? Would she just ask for help on her case that she hadn’t even had the manners to try and explain to him in her ridiculously vague letter, or would they try to pick up their relationship where they left off at the airfield? Jack mussed his hair and let out a groan- why was everything about this damned woman so difficult to understand!? Deep down, in a part of his brain that he was not so sure he even trusted, Jack wished he had an as stable relationship as Alec and his wife seemed to have. Even though they had only been married for coming up six years, Jack knew they had something special- something that he worried he would never find. Perhaps if he had never gone off to war, he could have had that with Rosie- or if he never married Rosie in the first place he could already have found a kindhearted woman who didn’t leave him at a wits end all the time. 

Jack was snapped out of his thoughts by the crunching of gravel, and Daisy’s voice met his ears from a little distance away. 

“Wherever did he get to?” she said, almost as if she was talking to someone, and Jack chuckled to himself. Surely he didn't need to help with the photography, he thought to himself; after all, Daisy had been the one to suggest he walked around the grounds and looked at everything in the first place. 

All of a sudden, a bright, lilting laugh made its way through the grounds, and Jack felt his heart skip a beat. No- he told himself, she’s not here. He nodded slowly, going back to looking at the vines that had started to climb the pale sides of the house; he was being delusional; she definitely wasn’t here. 

“Surely you want tea, Daisy, not another tour around the gardens?” 

Another laugh pierced the air, and Jack swallowed nervously as the crunching came nearer, the sound of two pairs of heels on the stones of the driveway,

“You probably know the grounds better than I do, goodness, until I had to come up and see father last week, I hadn’t been at Somerset House since before the war!” 

Jack pushed his hair back off of his head, unable to breathe for a second, before straightening back up and turning around as a gasp echoed through the garden, causing his breath to catch in his throat. 

Stood across the driveway, no more than a twenty feet away, was the woman who had haunted his dreams for the better part of a month and a half- yet twice as beautiful than his memory had dared let him recall. She was dressed simply- an emerald green blouse tucked into flowing black pants, a black lace bolero and her trademarked red lipstick finishing the look with the effortless class that was so quintessentially... her. 

Jack felt his mouth go dry and open into an ‘o’ of surprise, mirroring Phryne’s own. She was here- he was here, with her; and his heart was racing at what could only be described as breakneck speed. 

“Phryne-”

Before Jack was even given the chance to finish his sentence (of what he was not ever sure of what he was going to say), he heard a squeak, and very suddenly found his arms full of one very warm, very real, Phryne Fisher. He felt a sob rise in his throat, and not one to usually show so much emotion in such a small amount of time, settled for not crying, but rather rubbing his nose in Phryne’s hair and simply taking her in; really letting it sink in that he was holding Phryne Fisher. 

Phryne, in turn, was feeling far too many levels of emotion to be able to think straight, and keeping her arms wrapped around Jack’s midsection, leaned back to look him in the eye, her own eyes shining with tears that threatened to spill. 

“Jack.”

The tears that were sparkling in her eyes leaked out onto her cheeks, and Jack watched as she brushed them away with the back of her hand, before looking up at him once more. 

“You came.”

Her voice was no more than a whisper of disbelief, and in that moment, Jack was hit with such a feeling of love that it almost knocked him off his feet, followed by an overwhelming urge to take Phryne’s face in his hands and kiss her. Unfortunately, with the way Phryne had her arms wrapped around him, he was rendered completely unable to move his arms, hence he had to settle for the more restrained approach of leaning down ever so slightly, and attempting to brush her fringe away with his chin, settled with pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, just as he had dreamed of doing so many times before. 

Phryne leaned into his kiss to her forehead with a familiarity that made Jack’s heart swell, before looking up at him with nothing but love in her eyes. 

“We’ve been separated for over a month, and that’s the kiss you’re giving me, Inspector?” she said, a teasing tone to her voice that Jack had missed so dearly, 

“I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

Jack shook his head softly, before taking Phryne’s face in his hands, and leaning towards her all too slowly for her liking. When their lips eventually met, Phryne felt her knees turn to jelly, and her body felt as if it might explode. For years- years! she told herself, she had waited for Jack Robinson to finally give in to kissing her how she deserved it, and if the airfield hadn’t proved that the man could kiss; well, this kiss certainly could. 

When Jack pulled away, Phryne felt more than a little breathless, and her heart was beating much faster than it had been what was likely only moments before. Casting an eye around, she realised that Daisy had disappeared inside once more; likely to give them some semblance of privacy; and she felt a grin tug at the corners of her mouth, created by the kind of glee that only her inspector could bring her. 

“Oh Jack…” she murmured softly, stepping away for a moment to simply drink in his existence,  
“Do they teach all police officers to kiss like that?” 

Jack rumbled out a laugh and reached to pull Phryne back into his arms, dropping a kiss to her forehead once more just because he could, before holding her close. 

“Promise me you won’t go around trying to find out?”

Phryne let out a rare giggle, and Jack felt his heart swell as she wrapped her arms under his overcoat and lent back joyfully, gazing up at him like he was the only man left in the world. When she spoke, her voice was nearly too quiet to be heard- the sign that she was admitting something that she would not usually have even dreamed of saying to any one man, and Jack had to strain to hear her.

“I promise, Jack.” she said gently, standing on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips once more, but pulling back as his stomach let out a growl,  
“Though perhaps we should leave any more… kissing… until you’ve had some sustenance?” A wry smile on her lips caused Jack some concern that kissing wasn’t all that this ridiculous woman had in mind, but he nodded happily, linking arms with her and letting himself be walked along the driveway to the foot of the stairs without a complaint- after all; wherever Phryne went, he would follow. Before the two detectives had the chance to so much as consider setting foot on the stone steps leading up to the entrance of what Jack could now only assume was Phryne’s English estate, the sound of a door being pulled open, and then a sharp shriek pierced their ears, and Phryne let out a deep sigh before holding a little tighter onto Jack’s arm. 

“PHRYNE!” 

Jack tore his gaze away from the woman herself who was busy rolling her eyes by his side, and looked up the steps to where an older woman dressed in a long, grey dress stood. Her black hair was streaked with grey and piled up in an elegant chignon, and her eyes were a deep blue, similar to that of someone else’s, but Jack simply couldn’t put his finger on it. When the woman spoke up again, her voice had regained a slightly more normal tone, and there was a certain regality behind the way she spoke. 

“You didn’t tell me that you were having any male friends over for luncheon! I thought it was just Daisy!” 

Phryne detached herself from Jack’s arm, and shooting him a look, made her way up the steps to stand next to the other woman. 

“This is Jack, Mother.” she said simply, her voice having taken on a no-nonsense tone; and Jack felt his heart miss a beat, before he placed a hand to his brow. This was Phryne’s mother- her mother. 

A sudden look of knowing found its way onto the face of Margaret Fisher, and looking from her daughter, to her daughter’s handsome friend who had turned up out of the blue, and back again, she let out a little gasp. 

“You’re Phryne’s Inspector!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...did I do it justice?   
> I’d also like to take a moment of silence for the fact that I am a third of the way through this!! A whole third? I’m having so much fun with this it’s crazy, and everyone’s support makes me so warm and fuzzy inside <3 <3  
> (Also; I stole the line about police officers kissing abilities from one of the Daisy books, but I can’t remember which, damn it. Time to read them all again!)


	7. The Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can absolutely promise everyone that this is a filler chapter that offers SOME case explanation, a lot of kissing, and of course; everyone’s favourite: getting interrupted!

Margaret Fisher didn’t pride herself in very much, but much similar to her daughter, she did take pride in her uncanny ability to be in the right place at the right time, and usually to learn something from it: others called it being nosy, but she called it good fortune. Part of her knew that putting her well-powdered nose where it certainly didn’t belong would never end up making out well for her, but another part of her knew that if she didn’t try and uncover what other people were doing, she would never find out anything about her own family- which was painfully true. 

When Phryne had managed to successfully deliver her father to the very doorstep of Somerset House, two weeks before his ship would have even considered docking at Southampton, Margaret Fisher had been left a little bit shocked- though if she was being honest, it was more than a bit shocking that her daughter; of all people; would have been the one to manage to get her good-for-nothing husband back to the country when they both knew full well that he was not a man that either of them truly wanted in their lives. 

Since Phryne’s return to the family home though, Margaret had noticed a distinct change in her daughter’s demeanor- she seemed lighter, brighter, and filled with a joie de vivre that had never been about her before. She knew partially that it was from finally having closure over Janey’s death- finally being able to put a lid on the issue that had been lying unsolved in a police filing cabinet for over a decade, and what had been the elephant in the room (so to speak) at the estate in England at almost every turn. For over ten years, every party that the Fisher’s had hosted; every gala; every ball; had been overshadowed by what wasn’t there, rather than what was. Even when Phryne was home post-war, when she wasn’t off sunning herself in the south of France, or making her way across Europe, the conversation never truly turned to her, always glossing over what she had done and rather turning to ‘all the things little Janey could have done if she was still with us today’.

Many evenings had been spent pondering over what her youngest daughter could have done, Margaret often found herself thinking that the onslaught of hypothetical conversations had been one of the reasons Phryne had needed to spread her wings away from home in the first place- and for this she felt more than a little guilt. Even after she had managed to make it home after the war and help to secure the tumbling finances that were somehow still a part of the Fisher family’s day to day lives, there was a part of her that knew she wouldn’t stay around for too long- and of course, as mothers usually are, she was right. Phryne was in and out of Europe as if it were her own front door, going from one country to another as if nothing else mattered in the world. Sometimes, Margaret wouldn’t hear from her for months on end, and when she did it was scandalous tales that made her blush more than any well brought up Victorian woman should. 

When Phryne had come home at the very dawn of 1928, a sparkle of hope had lit itself in her mother’s chest: perhaps her daughter had finally come home to roost after all the years she had spent away? Unfortunately for her, it had seemed that Henry had thought the same thing, and rather than taking her coming home as the gift that it was, and handling it carefully, her husband had all but lost it the morning her had realised she had returned, still in the haze of a drunken stupor leftover from the night before. Before Margaret or the housekeeper had even had a chance to consider getting themselves involved in matters, he had verbally lashed out at her- once again comparing her to Janey- how that if she was here then perhaps Phryne would grace them all with her presence more often than never, how he was sure that if their other darling daughter was here, she would look after them with the care and grace that her eight year old self was so fond of doing when they still lived in the streets of Collingwood- and how their remaining daughter that they were ‘unfortunately still saddled with’ was an absolute disgrace to the family. 

Phryne, of course, had not taken it well. For the six months that she did remain in England, she had spent time with friends; going between the stately manors of the rich and famous, to the cosy family cottages of her old school friends, before swanning off to Australia once again, and not sending word of her well-being for a good year and a half- and when there was word of how she was, it was simply to confirm the family estate was still at the same address, her telegram being a mere few words from which Maragret could just feel an icy tone being emanated from. 

FROM: P. FISHER  
TO: M. FISHER  
\- BRINGING FATHER STOP STILL SOMERSET QUERIE

Of course, Margaret had had to reply to that with the appropriate affirmative that yes, they were still living in Somerset House, but why on earth was Phryne bringing her father home- was he really so incompetant that he was unable to make it on a boat by himself? It was no surprise to her that Phryne didn’t answer her telegram, so Maragret Fisher had set about waiting for her to turn up- and no doubt make a flashy entrance as she had always been so fond of doing when she graced them with her presence at each opportunity before. What came as a surprise, however, was that when Phryne did eventually turn up with her father in tow, two and a half weeks after having sent her original telegram, there was an absolute lack of grandeur in her entrance; the sudden opting for simplicity, one could say. That first day when Phryne had walked in through the front door of Somerset, brushing past the maids and still dressed in her flying togs; Henry trailing behind her with a weary look upon his brow; her mother had tried to envelope her in a hug, only to be brushed off and left in the hall with words trailing off after Phryne that sounded an awful lot like a sudden need to write a letter. Margaret had let out a huff at that point, before tending to her husband as he all but fell over the parquet flooring: it seemed that he had not changed a jot. 

Over the next few days, Phryne had spent an awful lot of time at the writing desk in the library, and according to the housekeeping account, an awfully large amount of money on long distance telegrams, which piqued Margaret’s curiosity to a point that it had not been at for a very long time. There was, however, one issue: Phryne blatantly refused to tell her who the letters and telegrams were going to, which put her mother in more than a bit of a huff. 

It wasn’t that Margaret didn’t try to get the answer out of Phryne, per se, but more that no matter what she asked, it would be brushed off with a one or two word answer, before the pen was put back to paper and the letter writing continued. If she asked over dinner while Henry was with them, the answer would be slightly longer: “oh, just a colleague”, and Henry would always snort into his wine, which clearly meant that he knew something that she did not. If Margaret took the matters into her own hands and made the bold move as to ask her husband multiple times, she got very similar stilted responses: the person- sorry, colleague that Phryne was writing to was, infact, a colleague, and at most she would get that he was in the police force. What Margaret was able to glimmer from the few responses she had gotten though, from the dreamy look that she had seen upon her daughter’s face a few times while she had been composing the letters that took up so much of her time; was that whoever it was she wrote to had an awfully large chunk of her admiration and quite possibly her heart. The way Phryne all but snatched telegrams from Reginald when they came in the post; how a gleeful look entered her eyes whenever the ‘colleague’ was mentioned; and how simply delighted she seemed to be to exist, even when her parents were near. Margaret had always supposed it was an old flame who had somehow gauged her interest again- and that may have been why Jack Robinson came as such a surprise to her when he arrived on that warm autumn day. 

*********

“You’re Phryne’s inspector!” 

Jack felt himself roll his eyes, and mentally chastised himself- Phryne’s mother had no impression of him at all thus far (no matter how she had tried to find out who he was, it was clear from some of Phryne’s telegrams that she actually managed to find out absolutely nothing), and it was probably for the best that her first impression of him was not one of irritation and lack of manners for the upper class. 

“Baroness.” he said politely, nodding his head as he looked up from where he stayed standing at the foot of the steps, all of a sudden realising how Phryne was almost the splitting image of her mother. They both had the most glorious eyes (Jack found himself drawn into Fisher the younger’s more often than he would care to admit), and very similar heart shaped faces, along with being the same stature and height. Phryne’s mother’s hair was a little longer than her daughter’s and pinned back to reveal cheekbones as sharp as her offspring’s; and the two of them almost mirrored the way the other stood as they spoke to one another quietly, Jack too caught up in his own thoughts to catch anything much more than ‘colleague’, ‘handsome’ and ‘is this who you refused to tell us about?’. 

Jack was once more drawn out of his thoughts by Phryne’s mother, who stated in a regal voice, 

“Oh, do call me Margaret!” 

Jack caught Phryne’s eye and she smiled at him, at once making her way back down the stairs to take the suitcase that sat at his feet, before standing all too close to him for anyone to consider their relationship one of ‘just colleagues’, and quickly linked her arm through his. She looked up at him with doe eyes, and Jack had to fight an overwhelming urge to lean down and peck her on the lips, realising that if he did so, it would just make family introductions even more difficult than if he let them to figure themselves out on their own. He huffed out a sigh, and his stomach rumbled, causing Phryne (who had been oh so busy looking at him adoringly and committing his every feature to memory) to jump a little, before laughing under her breath. 

“Now tell me, inspector,” she said with a smile, looking up at him as if nothing else mattered in the world,   
“When did you last eat?” 

Jack forced himself to think of something other than Phryne’s grinning visage for a couple of minutes, before looking back down at her with a playful pout on his lips. 

“I genuinely couldn’t tell you, Miss Fisher,” he said with a laugh in the back of his throat,  
“I feel as if I am all but wasting away over here!” 

Phryne stretched her mouth into an ‘o’ of surprise, and let out an overly dramatic gasp.

“Well, we can’t have that!” she exclaimed,   
“Mother!” 

From where she had been standing observing the two detectives, Margaret looked over to her daughter with a funny look that seemed a little bit like pride on her face. She had never- and she meant never seen her daughter look so comfortable and open with a man the entire time she had spent in England. From the second that she had heard Phryne’s original squeak of excitement, and the tail end of a conversation that concerned kissing, Margaret had known something was up, yet she never thought- never dreamed that it would be something so simple as her daughter being in l-

“Mother!” 

Phryne’s tone was somewhat sharp, and Maragret met her eye with a sigh. 

“Yes, Phryne?” she said politely,   
“Whatever is the matter? Do you need my assistance for something?” 

Jack felt Phryne tense next to him, and placed his spare hand in the small of her back, rubbing small circles. She glanced at him thankfully, and directed a tiny shake of her head in the direction of her mother, linking arms with Jack and starting to make their way up to the front door. 

“Not so to speak, mother,” she all but spat,   
“But if it’s not too much trouble, would you ask the cook to serve luncheon in the greenhouse today? Jack is really rather famished, after his long flight _to come to the other side of the world_.” 

Phryne dragged Jack up the last few steps and he shot a sorry smile at her mother, sidestepping to avoid walking into her as Phryne made it her mission to get him inside the house as soon as possible. Margaret called after them in some last ditch attempt to truly figure out who Jack was, 

“Is he the one that likes ham, cheese and mustard pickle sandwiches my dear?” 

Phryne let out a little laugh that Jack couldn’t help but grin at, and she rolled her eyes at him in what could only be described as an adoring manner. 

“Yes mother.” she said with a sigh, before looking over at Jack and shooting him a smile and ushering him through the front door,   
“Now, Inspector, I have plans for you, and they do not include eating sandwiches- at least not for a good half an hour.” 

Jack quirked an eyebrow at her words, and Phryne let out a girlish laugh, clinging onto his arm a little tighter as she placed his suitcase by the coat rack. She dropped his arm for a moment, and ran her hands along the lapels of his jacket, pushing them back off his shoulders so he could shrug it off and hang it up, before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

“Not those kinds of plans, Jack!” she said, her voice rising a little as if she was semi-scandalised as to where his mind had clearly slipped to, even after having only arrived no more than half an hour ago,  
“Work before play, I’m afraid!” 

+

Phryne pushed open the door to the library with a smile, curious as to how Jack’s arm had managed to wrap itself quite firmly around her waist once more- not that she was daring to question it. 

Walking into the library with Jack was a completely different experience to that of all the other times Phryne had walked into the room before, and it managed to elicit a quiet gasp of admiration from the man who usually kept his opinions so quiet as was never quick to express them. 

What was usually a sun filled room that had oaken bookshelves lining every wall was an absolute mess- paper flung everywhere, and reams of images scattered across every available surface. The sofas were covered in what seemed to be pieces of satin pulled from the hems of evening gowns, and every other inch of the room; the writing desk, the window seat, even some areas of the floor; were scattered with writing paper covered in scrawling blue ink. 

Phryne removed herself from Jack’s side for a moment and walked to the middle of the room, spinning in a slow circle as she took it all in. 

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it.” she said sadly, and Jack walked over to her, careful not to step on any of the papers on the floor, attempting to take in what was going on around him. 

What had originally seemed like a whirlwind had hit the room and created a very large wreck, was at second glance, actually photos of women at balls very similar to what Jack had recieved in Melbourne in the one parcel she had sent him; and in all of a moment it hit him. This was her version of his attempt to map out Janey’s case: this was her case file- her case room, for want of a better phrase. 

Jack stood next to Phryne with a proud smile pulling at the corners of his mouth even though it was not the time to be smiling, and turned to face her, pulling her close in his arms. 

“It’s not too much.” he said gently into her hair,   
“It’s the perfect amount.” 

Phryne smiled up at him thankfully, and moved away for a moment, collected all the pieces of fabric off of the chaise and placed them on a side table before grabbing a notebook off of the mantlepiece and sitting down with a bounce on the cushions. She patted the seat next to her with a smile in her eyes, and Jack obliged, taking the seat next to her as she flipped open the notebook. 

“So.” Phryne’s voice was worried, and Jack didn’t take that as a good starting point: she had a case that she hadn’t been able to tell him about in her letters, a whole room filled with things that supposedly related to whatever issue was at hand, and if anything, she seemed nervous. He reached out, and carefully clasped Phryne’s hand that wasn’t holding onto the notebook with a death grip, drawing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her palm before letting it go once more. 

“If you couldn’t tell me in a letter, I’ll assume whatever is going on is serious, Miss Fisher.” he said quietly, and Phryne looked over at him tenderly: that wasn’t the only reason she hadn’t made a true start on solving the case by herself, but she would never tell him that- for starters, it seemed as if the case was planning on hitting far closer to home than she would have ever liked anything to. A little sigh escaped her mouth, and cursing the part of her that seemed to crave affection any time Jack was in her close vicinity, she leant into his shoulder while she started to talk, gesturing with her free hand.

“It all started about three months ago- before I even arrived.” she said, cuddling a little closer into Jack as he wrapped his arm around her, 

“Women started to just… disappear when they went to parties- and to be honest, Jack, no one thought anything of it until mother told me about it when we attended Henrietta Montgomery’s engagement ball a few days after I arrived. Everyone thought the women had just gone walkabout, or were tired of their fiances crowding their space so they’d taken leave to go to the country for a little while!” she coughed out an awkward sounding laugh at this, and Jack couldn’t help but nod in somewhat of a form of agreement. It was true- what well-to-do engaged woman just decided to up and go to the country for a while? Phryne started talking again and pointing to her notebook, and Jack let his attention make its way back to the matter at hand. 

“When I asked Lady Montgomery about the ball the next week- she threw an awfully dull dinner party, Jack- she said that the party was a success, but Henrietta had just vanished off the face of the earth! She told me she didn’t even ask around, but just thought that her daughter had ‘gone away for a while to gather her thoughts’, which is an utterly ridiculous notion! Henrietta is one of the most gathered people I know!” 

Phryne shoved the little notebook into Jack’s hands before continuing. 

“So I did a little sleuthing…” Phryne trailed off as Jack leant across to kiss her on the lips, a gasp escaping in surprise as his kiss deepend before he pulled away with a grin. She raised an eyebrow, and Jack shook his head at her. 

“I couldn’t help it,” he said with a wry smile, and Phryne couldn’t help but tug him by his tie to kiss him once more before her face fell serious and she made up her mind to go back to the important matter at hand that wasn’t the attractive detective inspector sat next to her. 

“So anyway..” she said, pointing to the neat list of names in the notebook that Jack now held,  
“I asked around, and it turns out that within the last three months; as I said; a handful of recently engaged women have gone missing from the circles in which my mother and I frequent whenever we are out and about.” 

Jack nodded, watching in earnest as Phryne rattled off names and descriptions to him while pointing to photos on the coffee table and names on the sheet of paper before them, before trailing off to take a breath. 

“My mother- so much as we don’t see eye to eye- is worried Jack.” she admitted, looking down to fiddle with the jewel coloured scraps of fabric that she had pulled back onto her lap from their place on the other table. 

“I think that part of her knows that these women certainly haven’t just swanned off for a holiday in the South Downs, but doesn’t want to admit it to myself or father… and that there is a little bit of worry in her heart after all.” 

Jack felt the sigh that she let out, and picked up one of the fabric scraps from her lap, gently brushing her hand with his own as he did so, which earned him a smile. 

“Meanwhile, you’re worried that it’ll all turn out too similar to what happened to Janey.” he said sadly, glancing at her as she nodded, but quickly made the move onwards. 

“What’s weird though,” she continued,  
“Is the dress scraps left in the gardens after almost every dance: identical to the dresses of the women who have disappeared- or gone on holiday as so many are so quick to have me believe. Once the dress scrap has been found, there’s absolutely nothing else: no footprints, no sign of the woman, and nothing at all that makes it look as if there’s been a tussle!” she huffed in an annoyed manner, and Jack took that as his cue to ask one question that had been on his mind since they had sat down together.

“And you know this how?” 

Phryne let out a little laugh.

“Well, certainly not from my gleaming rapport with the police!” she said,   
“Other than Alec, they all think I’m an interfering busybody!” 

Jack couldn’t help but crack a grin at that, remembering when he had felt exactly the same, and Phryne elbowed him in the ribs when she noticed the look of agreement on his face. Jack let out a noise of pain, before making to quickly remedy his slipup. 

“You’re not an interfering busybody, Miss Fisher.” he said with one of his downturned smiles that she had grown to adore,   
“You simply get in the way sometimes- throwing yourself on desks, waltzing with the leading officer, little things like that, is all.” 

Phryne gasped in mock horror. 

“Those things get in the way, Inspector..?” she asked, leaning in closer and looking at him innocently, her hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt,  
“What a shame for you!” 

Jack removed the notebook from where it lay abandoned in his lap, and smirked at Phryne.

“A terrible shame…” he rumbled, placing a kiss on her lips between each word,   
“Such a terrible shame…” 

Phryne’s eyes gleamed at him as she unpopped his first button, but before she could make it any further, there was a sharp rap at the door. 

“Lady Fisher says luncheon is served, Miss Fisher!” called out a voice, and Phryne pulled back from Jack with what sounded like a long suffering sigh. 

“Damn my parents!” she said with a scowl, before standing and shooting a smirk in Jack’s direction,  
“Though I wouldn’t want you to waste away, Inspector.” she paused for dramatic effect,   
“We’ll just have to continue our little debriefing later.” 

Jack rolled his eyes at her double entendre, but nonetheless, stood up and offered her his arm. 

“Shall we, Phryne?” he said softly, and she reached out to wrap her arms around his bicep as he leant down to kiss her on the cheek. A smile lit up her face with a glow, and she led them both toward the door. 

“I think we shall, Jack.” she said gently,  
“Lay on, MacDuff!”

Jack suppressed a grin as she opened the door. God, it was good to have her back in his life again. 


	8. The Luncheon

Walking down the hallway of her childhood home, attached to the arm of the man she loved, Phryne Fisher was overcome with a strange sense of calm- one that she had never usually associated with Somerset House- even if it did feel suspiciously like the calm before a storm. To her, it was so completely unusual to feel at peace around her parents that as Jack reached to wrap his hand around hers, she was overcome with an almost out of character wave of emotion. Jack, being the observant detective of a man he was felt the change in her demeanor almost instantly- the snap from quiet and calm to full of emotion; and as they made their way toward the doors of the dining room, he turned to face Phryne, concern on his brow as he rubbed circles on her palm with his thumb. Phryne, on the other hand, did not immediately look up to lock eyes with him, and a niggle of worry settled in his stomach, similar to how he had felt when he had mentioned to her battleaxe of an aunt that he was considering travelling to London in the first place. Prudence had scoffed at him, and told him (in the politest possible way), that it was unlikely Phryne would settle for someone so stable as himself; but now with Phryne practically buzzing with emotion next to him and gazing off over his shoulder with misty eyes, Jack wasn’t quite so sure that he agreed with the elder woman. 

“Miss Fisher?”

Phryne seemed to snap out of her haze in all of a moment, and Jack looked at her with a funny sort of frown on his brow. She brushed a hair out of her eyes and then looked up at him, light eyes into dark as he posed his next question. 

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded. 

“Mhm, yes Jack.” she said quietly,   
“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re here to face my parents with me, we’re all but working on a case together again, the sun rose and I lived another day- I would say that I’m absolutely alright!” 

Jack tilted his head to the side in question at Phryne’s overly bubbly response, and raised an eyebrow at her in question, watching as she let out a deep sigh before looking up at him with worried eyes. There was clearly something that his dear lady detective wasn’t telling him, and he was going to figure out what it was before they even considered eating lunch: he may have been all but absolutely starving, but the wellbeing of Miss Fisher came first and foremost, and his hunger could wait. Jack waited a couple of quiet moments before Phryne made a valiant effort to speak up once more. 

“I’d much rather have said this in closer quarters, Jack,” she said after yet another lengthy pause, and he looked at her with what seemed an awful lot like concern colouring his face. In all of a moment, however, a glimmer in his eyes sent Phryne’s stomach spiralling with love before he shot her a smirk and pulled her after him into one of the many alcoves that lined the hall, all but pressing her to his chest- and to his great relief, he felt her giggle into his suit. 

“Close enough quarters, Miss Fisher?” he asked with a wry grin, and not caring about any of the servants who may or may not have been wandering the halls of the house taking food to the table, leant down to press his lips to hers her in a less than chaste kiss. When they broke apart, however, the look of worry was still heavy on Phryne’s face, and Jack felt her sigh against him. 

“You know you can tell me, Phryne.” he said softly,   
“Whatever you need- unless, of course, it’s to plan a joint murder of your father. So much as I am all for that, I’d rather we left it to the professionals.” 

Phryne shook her head at him as a smile pulled at her lips, whispering ‘darling man’ as she tried to think of a decent way to formulate her thoughts into coherent sentences. There was a part of her that knew she should have mentioned one more little detail when they had been sat comfortably in the library discussing her case files- yet she hadn’t mentioned because, goodness, it was so unlike her. She had known that bringing Jack into the case was the right thing to do, and would give him a damn good reason to come after her in the first place; but the whole plan that she had concocted relied upon her telling him everything… and that meant everything. She had to let him in on something that, although she was awfully good at being in love with him anyway, would likely require a little acting on both their parts- and she couldn’t just… ask that of him! She rested her head against Jack’s chest as he leaned against the alcove wall, and started to speak. 

“Well, Inspector,” she said, trying to force her tone to be something even similar to being bubbly,   
“This whole case is a bit of a mess, with the- the engagements and the balls, and how all the engaged women go missing and no one else does and- and how I really feel as if I need to find out what’s actually going on but of course, I’m not engaged and I likely never will be because of my cavalier approach to life and-” 

Jack pressed a finger to her lips, and her eyes widened in shock. 

“You’re babbling,” he said simply,   
“And I- well, Mrs Collins and I put two and two together from your letters and the other things you sent us, and somehow did end up with four.” 

Phryne chuckled almost nervously. 

“I never did doubt your mathematical ability, Inspector.” she said with a grin, and Jack looked at her proudly. She really did mean everything to him, he thought; she was the stars in his sky, the sun on his rainy day, the fireworks that lit up his life more frequently than he would care to admit. 

“I know your plan, Phryne.” he said gently, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out the ring that she had sent to Melbourne along with all the photos,   
“And I’ll be honest, it was a little unexpected, as well as unconventional, but then again- when are you ever conventional, Miss Fisher?”

Phryne smiled at Jack lovingly, before placing one hand on his chest. 

“You do know it would all be a ruse, Jack?” she said gently,  
“And I can’t make any promises to you? You understand that, don’t you? And it could get a little bit dangerous, if everything goes as I… unfortunately hope it does.”

Jack shook his head gently at her and smiled one of his trademarked downturned smiles that she was oh so fond of- she should know by now that he would never try to clip her wings, no matter how much some of her decisions made him question her sanity.

“Of course I understand, Miss Fisher,” he said quietly, unwrapping the mother of pearl ring from the handkerchief it had spent the flight from the Antipodes in, before holding it out to her with a sweet smile.

“Now, would you do me the honour of being my fiancee- in all senses other than actual?” 

Phryne laughed slightly, and holding her hand up to Jack, let him slip the ring onto her ring finger then standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

“Always, Jack.” she murmured against his warm skin, a laugh slipping out of her as he pulled her closer for another kiss,   
“Always.” 

+

For Jack, waltzing into the dining room with Phryne on his arm was a heavenly experience that he hoped to partake in many times during his stay at Somerset house- if he stayed at Somerset house, that was. Now that she had unloaded the single thing that seemed to have been worrying her about the case (or at least, her single worry at present), she was all but a bundle of joy, and in the short walk down the rest of the corridor to the dining room once they had removed themselves from their alcove, she had pointed out paintings on the walls and happily told him stories about the interior, her grip around his bicep not loosening the entire time. As they reached the dining room, however, Phryne had tensed up, and Jack had turned to her, dropping a kiss to her forehead. 

“It’s just your parents, Phryne,” he said gently,  
“And I’m here, so, how bad can it be?” 

Phryne had let out a little chuckle at that, and ran her hand down his cheek.

“You know they’re going to make a big deal about this!” she said with a smile, wafting her hand in the air so that the sunlight could gleam off of the silver band; and Jack held back a laugh at how ridiculously proud she looked of that fact. 

“Well we can’t just not tell them,” he said with a roll of his eyes,   
“No doubt they’ll notice as soon as we even walk into the room; you’re practically lit up like a Christmas tree, Phryne ‘I’ll never settle for any man’ Fisher!” 

Phryne swatted his shoulder with a grin as they walked through the doors to the dining room, and to her great surprise just as her mother stood from her seat to welcome them, and her father made a face of shock clearly directed at Jack- the darling man grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on the back of the hand she had made to hit him with, causing her eyes to light up with a glow he always felt ridiculously pleased to see. With that, he dropped her hand once more with a smirk on his face, and walked over to the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit on as if nothing had just happened. 

Pressing a hand to her lips to hide her laugh, Phryne took a seat before patting the chair next to her and Jack deciding to sit down- he too seemed to be having difficulties hiding his laughter as the baroness and her husband looked at the two of them with mouths that were all but hanging open in surprise at the incredibly open display of affection between the two detectives, shooting a look between the two of them and then over at her husband, who simply shrugged. 

A maid entered the room to break the silence, and bustled around the four at the table serving tea as Jack made to smooth his tie self consciously. It was funny, he thought to himself; watching as Phryne stirred her tea with the force of someone most unamused by their table companions; he could look a cold-blooded killer straight in the eye and tell them their less than pleasant fate, yet when it came to even sitting at the same table as the parents of the woman he was in love with, he turned into a nervous mess. 

Phryne coughed, and the baroness let out a huff, glaring at her daugher. 

“Do cover your mouth when you cough, Phryne.” she said cooly, and Phryne crossed her arms in front of her as if they were a barrier before taking a sip of her tea to then speak up.

“Of course, mother.” she said in a sweet voice that was somehow still laced with malice,   
“Do you have any other tips? Ones that it would have been nice of you to teach me, goodness, I don’t know- twenty years ago when you weren’t making much of an effort to raise me?” 

Jack watched as the elder Fisher woman spluttered into her tea, and Phryne smiled a rather amused smile as her father shot her daggers before taking the opportunity to make his first (likely to not be valuable) input of the morning. 

“Inspector!” he said,   
“What on earth brings you to England?”

Jack reached for a sandwich from one of the platters in the centre of the table, taking a careful bite and chewing while he thought upon his answer- not that it took much thought at all if he was honest. 

“Your daughter, Baron.” he said with a smile,   
“She did ask me to come after her after all!”

Margaret spluttered into her tea once more. 

“This a story I haven’t heard before, Phryne!” she said, her face a vision of pure shock, and Jack felt Phryne’s hand creep onto his knee under the table clearly looking for him to offer her at least some form of comfort while she tried to explain matters to her mother without spontaneously combusting. He took her hand in his without a second thought and massaged her palm with his thumb as she cast a grateful look at him and began to talk, not before her father could interrupt her as he was wont to do. 

“Jack is here to help me wi-”

“He’s the one she kissed on the airfield!” Henry said with a roll of his eyes,   
“Didn’t I tell you this story already, Margaret?” 

Margaret shook her head and her husband let out a deep sigh, before launching into speech again.

“Well you see,” he said,   
“When Phryne decided to fly me back to you, my dear, she made to leave very early, and the inspe-” 

“ENOUGH!” 

Phryne’s voice came out much louder than she had anticipated, and both her parents shot her a look. 

“My engagements with Jack are just that,” she said cooly, clasping Jack’s hand in her own entangling their fingers on her knee, trying to ignore the worry that settled in her stomach.  
“Mine to deal with- I don’t need you both getting involved in my personal business!” she gestured wildly with her left hand, and the pearls that were now placed upon her ring finger caught in the light, causing Henry and Margaret's jaws to drop once again. Phryne continued speaking without a care, and Jack pulled a face when he noticed the wordless conversation that the Baron and Baroness were having. 

“Phryne.” he said quietly,   
“Miss Fisher.” 

Phryne looked at him and fell quiet, forgetting her tirade from only seconds earlier when she noticed the concern in Jack’s eyes. 

“Yes, Jack?” she said, tilting her head, and looking as if she might cry,  
“What’s the matter? I’m sorry if I was out of hand I-” 

Jack shook his head and tilted his chin over to where her parents were now sitting with their heads bent together, just as Margaret turned to face her daughter. 

“Phryne, my dear?” the baroness said, a slight nervousness coating her words,   
“Were you planning on telling us, or were you going to leave it to us to figure out?” 

Phryne raised an eyebrow and picked up her tea, taking a sip of the scalding beverage before answering her mother’s inquiries.

“Telling you what, mother?” she replied, her voice full of what could only be genuine confusion, and Jack let out a little sigh. He bent his head in close to Phryne’s ear, and whispered softly.

“She noticed the ring, Miss Fisher.” 

Phryne, to his great surprise, let out a joyous laugh and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Oh, this?” she held out her left hand to her parents across the table and her mother immediately took it, turning it between her own hands so that the light glinted off of the setting. Her father cast a look at the two women before turning to Jack, an amused smile on his lips. 

“Congratulations, Inspector!” he said wryly,   
“It seems someone has finally managed to capture the spirit of Phryne Fisher! Next thing we know, she’ll have settled down and decided to raise a family!” 

Phryne shot her father a glare across the table that may as well have frozen the majority of the lakes in England, and pulled her hand out of her mother’s loose grip.

“No one is making anyone settle down and have a family, Father,” she spat,   
“Jack and I have just decided to do what any couple would do so that society accepts them!” 

Margaret watched the couple with a look of surprised happiness on her brow- this, of all things, had never been what she had expected to have her daughter put on the proverbial table when she returned home from being away for little more than two years. 

“Phryne.” she said softly,   
“Is this why you wouldn’t tell me a thing about the Inspector? Was it meant to be a surprise?” 

Phryne let out a little laugh, and thought for a second, before nodding. After years of Margaret being enshrouded in her husband’s shadow, the joy in her eyes was too much for her daughter to deny her one little thing. 

The elder Fisher female let out a squeak of delight. 

“Oh goodness!” she said with a bright grin,   
“We must plan an engagement ball, invite everyone, have a party- tea in the gardens, that’s what we’ll do, followed by a ball! Oh, Phryne, Inspector, how utterly marvelous! 

Henry looked at his wife and shook his head, shooting a glance at his daughter and expecting her to be rolling her eyes, but instead, she was looking at the inspector in such a way that he had never seen before- and he had seen Phryne look at a lot of men; but not this way. This way was different: her eyes were bright and shining, full of love; and the inspector was looking at her in the exact same way. It was almost sweet, thought Henry; almost.

A cough echoed in the doorway, and everyone was bought out of their individual reveries by Reginald entering the room and passing Lady Fisher an envelope. 

“Letter for you, ma’am.” he said simply, before bowing and making his way from the room once more. 

Henry leant his head over his wife’s shoulder as she used a butter knife to slit open the envelope and pulled out an embossed invitation card, written in what seemed to be golden ink. 

_Families Lepont and Glasson invite you to celebrate_  
_the engagement of_  
_Aurelie Lepont and Richard Glasson_  
_October 30, 1929._  
_RSVP to the Glasson Estate_

Margaret let out yet another shrill shriek of joy.

“This is perfect!” she said, turning to face Phryne,  
“You and Jack can have your first foray into the English world as an engaged couple- as a couple, even!” She quickly stood and grabbed Henry’s hand.   
“We must RSVP darling, do come on!” The two of them stood, and Henry rolled his eyes as his wife pulled him out of the room.

“Do eat some sandwiches, Inspector!” he shouted out as they rounded the corner and left the room.

Jack took one look at Phryne, and the two of them burst out laughing.

“Do eat some sandwiches, Inspector!” Phryne mimicked her father, and Jack let out an explosive laugh before reaching for another.

“I don’t mind if I do!” he said, leaning back in his chair, suddenly in full detective inspector mode. Phryne felt the telltale strains of arousal pull at her, and she quickly took another sip of tea to divert her attention, before looking back over at Jack, who spoke up again.  
“Now- tell me about the two people your mother just mentioned- what can we expect of this engagement party?” 

Phryne let out a long sigh.

“Well-” she said thoughtfully,  
“A hell of a lot.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow, and Phryne found herself elaborating in great detail- more detail than she had even realised she knew of the Lepont and Glasson families. Within the half an hour for which she had spoken, Jack learnt a considerable lot. The Lepont family had come into their fortune the usual way- through the war. When a couple of properties had made themselves available in the better known towns along England’s coast, Roland Lepont had made it his mission to construct a holiday empire, and now was the sole owner and proprietor of Lepont Properties; his wife, on the other hand, did not work, and spent most of her time knitting socks- Jack had laughed at this, and Phryne had further explained the ins and outs of London’s season putting the two of them together purely by chance, and it not really working out. The issue between them, however, was that they only stayed together for their beloved daughter Aurelie- and Phryne had a sneaking suspicion that as soon as she was married off to her beloved her parents planned on divorcing, which explained their lack of complaint about the Glasson family. 

Where the Leponts were overly rich, the Glassons were rather poor, and hailed from the West Coast of the United States, giving them a sun-tanned exoticness that no one could ever truly say no to. The matriarch of the family, Irene Glasson, was a journalist from the middle of nowhere, and no one outside of the town she had finally settled down in knew her name; and her husband Oliver was a failed magician who had one half less well-functioning legs than he should have. The two of them had met by chance when Irene had been forced to run across the country from those who were looking into something she possessed, and their marriage had been one of surprise to most of their friends. Once moving from Burning Cove, they had settled down in England and given birth to their son, Richard, who had met Aurelie by complete chance at a town picnic. Irene met Daisy through their intermingled work, and that was how the Fishers had come to to know her too. 

“So you see, Jack, they’re very much bright young things; not like us at all!” Phryne confessed with a laugh, and Jack shot a fake frown at her.

“Are you calling me old, Miss Fisher?” he said with a grin, and reached across to her chair to pull her into his arms. Phryne, of course, came quite willingly, and tucked her legs up underneath her, looping her arms around his neck.

“Not at all, Jack!” she said with a giggle, diving in to kiss his furrowed brow,   
“Now, would you like me to tell you who else will be at the party, or will I have to let you find out for yourself?”

Jack smiled and shook his head fondly.

“I would love to know, Miss Fisher.” he said with a grin,   
“But perhaps we could find somewhere else to discuss this?” he shifted in his chair.  
“Your knee seems to be doing its level best to impale me.” 

Phryne laughed brightly and hopped off of Jack’s lap, offering him her hand in a most pleasing reversal of society’s perspectives. 

“Perhaps a walk, Jack?” she said with a smile, and Jack stood up willingly, wrapping an arm around her waist as they left the room together so that she could tuck her head into the crook of his neck. 

“That,” he said, pressing another kiss to her cheek just because he could,   
“Sounds most delightful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) We actually learnt some stuff about the case! Are you as surprised as I am?  
> 2) I did promise a fake engagement... and I hope this lived up to everyone’s expectations!   
> 3)...yes, I shamelessly added yet ANOTHER of my favourite 1920’s/early 1930’s mystery couples; Irene and Oliver. I am SO in love with the first book of the Burning Cove series that I really gave myself no choice.  
> 4) Thank you for 1000 hits!


	9. The Afternoon Sun

Jack felt Phryne’s hand slip into his own as they stepped out onto the canal path behind Somerset house, and he squeezed it caringly, a soft smile falling once more unto his features as they fell into step beside one another. Phryne, it seemed, was not walking two steps ahead for once, but was rather happy to be by his side, and by the way that she was rubbing circles on his palm with her thumb, for it was crystal clear that she was so much more at peace with their relationship being out in the open than he had even considered expecting her to be. 

A strange kind of quiet fell over the two detectives as they walked, and Jack took a moment to let his eyes sweep over Phryne’s figure in an unabashed and almost shameless way that no one in their right mind would usually associate with Jack Robinson, and he felt his heart clench as she looked up at him with laughter in her eyes, before continuing to look at their surroundings. She looked really happy, Jack thought; truly bright, and open, and herself in a way that even at home in Melbourne she hadn’t been. Out in the English countryside, it seemed that Phryne Fisher- intrepid detective with the most impeccable fashion sense and no idea how to keep her mouth closed- turned into just… Phryne. A normal, almost quiet seeming upper-middle-class Englishwoman who wore long coats that were almost a decade out of date on walks through backroads with her… fiance.

Phryne looked back over at Jack with a slight furrow on her brow, before stopping in the middle of the path, standing on her tiptoes, and caressing his cheek with her hand that wasn’t entrapped in Jack’s own. 

“You seem rather pensive, Jack,” she said matter-of-factly,   
“Is something the matter?” 

Jack shook his head with the force of someone who had just been snapped out of a trance, before looking at Phryne and letting out what could only be described as a wistful sigh. 

“Nothing is the matter, Miss Fisher.” he said gently,   
“I’m simply thinking, that’s all.” 

Phryne tilted her head, and pulled Jack by his hand, leading him over to a bench that sat half uncovered by a large oak tree. She gently pushed Jack’s shoulder to get him to sit down, before placing herself on the bench next to him and reaching for his hand once more.

“From experience,” she said softly,  
“Thinking is never all that good- and I should know, because since I’ve been here, I’ve thought an awful lot.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow in question and concern, before shaking his head, realising that the likelihood of Phryne becoming sad by unloading all her thoughts onto him was not something that he thought his heart would be able to take any time soon. In the last two years, he had been awfully good at dealing with Phryne’s highs and lows- and after her birthday party in 1928 had stayed in her parlour and held her while she cried about finding her sister; but he had also been there when they wrote letters to her parents to inform them of Janey’s remains being found, which had started off as a sombre ceremony of sorts, but ended up with both of them being more than a little drunk, and Phryne telling him all sorts of tales from her teenage years without her younger sister to balance her out- tales of which, he would certainly have had to arrest her for as a junior constable.

“You don’t have to tell me, Phryne.” he said gently, reaching across the bench to pull her closer into his side and brushing her fringe away from where it was getting dangerously close to falling into her eyes. 

“You really don’t have to- I was only thinking about how happy I am to be here- to finally have made my way to England..” he trailed off, looking at Phryne, before finishing with  
“I really am just glad to be here, darling.”

Phryne forced back a smile at the term of endearment, resting her head in the crook of Jack’s shoulder, looking up at him rather lovingly. 

“It’s best if I tell you, Jack.” she said, her voice dropping to a level so quiet that Jack had to strain to hear her,   
“You were always one to tell me not to bottle up my feelings- please.” 

Jack massaged his brow with one hand, and the other hand snaked around Phryne’s shoulder to hold her tight. As the sun shone down upon them, little grey clouds seemed to form around Phryne, and Jack could see that she was clearly battling feelings that if she didn’t share, might not put the pleasant end to the day that they both seemed to have been hoping for: he had seen her like this before. First it was the complaining of a headache, then the withdrawing to her house, or her room, and then being cold and distant until someone called up Mac and asked her to take her out dancing or have a much needed conversation with her. 

Phryne coughed, before making out to speak. 

“Being here- in England, it’s not easy, Jack.” a hazy look fell upon her face and her eyes showed that she was clearly elsewhere; Jack started to massage her shoulder with his hand in a feeble attempt to bring her back to the present- but it didn’t work.

“It feels like she’s here, Jack.” Phryne said softly, 

“I swear, I see her running through the hallways in the mornings, pulling her toy horse along behind her that Uncle Edward made us both one year- and of course, Father sold mine for beer, but I fought tooth and nail for Janey to keep hers.” she took a sharp breath before continuing. 

“We spent a week in this house during the summer that she turned five- when Mother still had just enough of an allowance from her father to be able to up and get away from Collingwood once every couple of years- and I remember that week being absolute heaven. Father hardly drunk- and we were… we were an actual family for what was probably both the first and last time.” she let out a deep sigh, and Jack looked at her with only love and tenderness in his eyes, not asking her to continue, but somehow still conveying that if she wished to talk, he would listen to whatever she had to say. Jack watched as she took in another sharp breath, composing herself before continuing. 

“Father said something that summer that’s stuck with me for a long time.” she said quietly, looking out across the canal and not at Jack,

“And really, I wish it didn’t stick with me, but it does- every single day- and oh Jack…” she trailed off once more, and Jack took her hands in his own, all but forcing her to look over at him- to take in the love on his visage and the care that seemed to cover his entire being. 

“Phryne, my love.” he said softly- her name as a term of endearment as it usually was rather than a normality that others might see it as,

“Please tell me.” 

Phryne looked at Jack with tears glittering in the corners of her eyes and shook her head firmly. 

“It’s absolutely ridiculous, Jack.” she said, removing her hands from his and crossing them across her body as a barrier of sorts, looking as if she would stand and flee at any moment. Jack could all but see her walls going up, and a feeling of guilt settled in his stomach. He had known the signs- always known that talking about her childhood was a dangerous game, yet here they were, on a park bench in the sun, and rather than kissing languidly like he had somehow hoped that they would as soon as they got away from the busybody who seemed to be Margaret Fisher, they were instead having what seemed to be their first argument as an ‘engaged’ couple.

Phryne stood suddenly, and walked towards the water, looking out over it as if it would show her the answers to all her problems, and when she started to talk, Jack had to stand and move slightly closer to be able to hear her very quiet words. 

“Father took me by the hand one afternoon when Janey and Mother were helping Aunt Susan in the gardens and took me to sit with him on the veranda and watch everyone- and it was lovely, until, of course, he said his usual spiel on ‘oh, goodness, I hope you can do this with your children when you’re older, Phryne my dear!’.”

She turned to Jack with absolutely nothing but sadness in her eyes, and Jack reached out to her, a feeling of ridiculous gratefulness settling over him when she did take it in her own and stepped closer to him once more before making to speak again.

“I must have been ten, Jack.” she said emotionlessly,   
“And he kept crowing on about how it was my right of way to marry, to have children, to carry on the family name- and even then, I knew. I knew I didn’t want children.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, and Phryne let out a silly little sigh. 

“I’m sure this all sounds absolutely ridiculous!” she exclaimed with a huff,   
“But when a ten year old me told Father that I didn’t want children awfully much at all, let alone to get married, he was all but fuming. He called me selfish, Jack! Selfish! Because I didn’t want children- and I didn’t even bother mentioning my lack of a desire to get married, because who knows how that would have gone down!”

Jack shook his head, confused as to why Phryne was so irritated by a conversation that had taken place over two and a half decades ago, but in all of a second, it hit him. She hadn’t wanted to marry, or have children, yet now she was here in England, and in her parents eyes, she was genuinely engaged to a respectable man. Jack let out a whistle of air through his teeth. 

“Phryne.” he said gently, pulling her into his arms and letting her droop against his chest,  
“You do remember this is all a hoax, don’t you?” 

Phryne looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“I know that, Jack.” she said quietly,  
“But Mother and Father don’t, and Gods, after all this, they’ll actually expect us to get married! To settle down! Don’t you understand that?” her voice rose in octave as she spoke, and the next thing she said came as somewhat of a surprise to Jack.

“And no doubt you’ll expect us to get married too.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. 

“Excuse me?” 

Phryne pushed away from Jack’s chest, and a look of more than slight irritation coloured her face. 

“You’ll probably expect us to actually get married, Jack!” she spat,   
“Even after you said you’re okay with a false engagement that doesn’t actually mean anything, you’ll want to make me a kept woman! For me to not run off with someone else!” Her voice was getting gradually louder, and Jack felt his stomach clench as he watched the woman he loved work herself into an absolute state. 

“You’re an upstanding citizen in the community, Jack!” she practically roared,   
“If you can’t get me to settle down with you, how on Earth are you supposed to keep your job? You can’t have some- some- some floozy charading around town with you- two unmarried individuals living in the same house, that’s not how it works! You’d have to marry me because, oh, heaven forbid the law takes into account what anyone actually wants!” 

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but found himself quickly cut off by another tirade of angry words, unable to even take the chance to explain how he certainly wasn’t expecting to marry her, let alone have any children, but of course- when Phryne got an idea in her head, she didn’t let it go easily- not back in Melbourne, and not ever. 

In the moments that Jack had taken to himself to think, Phryne had pulled a notebook out of her coat pocket and all but threw it at him, before tugging her coat closer around herself, saying some words that didn’t even make any imprint in Jack’s conscience, and turning on her heel to walk away. 

“Phryne!” Jack called after her, taking a few large steps to catch up with her, and reaching out for her arm. 

As somewhat expected, Phryne pulled her arm out of Jack’s grasp and shot a glare at him, her voice coming out much cooler than either of them had expected.

“I’m sorry, Jack.” she said quietly,   
“I need a minute. I’ll… I’ll just meet you back at the house.” 

Jack nodded, and watched as she started to walk away once more, before turning his attention back to the notebook she had given him, and making his way back to the bench they had been sat on; together; only minutes before. 

Opening the notebook, Jack was met by a hodgepodge of paper, and scrawling handwriting he didn’t recognise stared back at him. 

_Dearest Rosie,_  
 _Have you heard the news about poor Penelope Austen? Petra was telling me all about her at a luncheon yesterday- she got engaged to Donny last month; Donald Winterton- and after their engagement ball she just… poof! disappeared! Mother thinks she’s gone to celebrate her engagement at Mrs Bobbins Holiday Cottages, but I wrote to their usual address and no one has written back! Isn’t it strange?_  
 _Send my love to your family!_  
 _Kisses, Christie._  
+

  
 _Dear Christie,_  
 _No, I hadn’t heard, but that does sound very similar to Rosemary Delucio! I think I must have mentioned her at tea last week- when I was eating with Petra and Robert- doesn’t Petra have some great stories at the moment!? Mr Moyes seemed most annoyed that she bought it up at the table- I don’t feel as if he thinks women ‘disappearing’ is an appropriate topic for us women to talk about over drop scones! I do hope that Rosemary reappears soon though. She asked me to help her with the flowers for her wedding, can you believe it’s next month!?_  
 _Love, Rosie_  
+  
 _Mr and Mrs Robert Moyes would like to invite you (Christie Doyle and Carter Enwright)_  
 _to supper on Tuesday the 12th of September 1929_  
 _Please RSVP to Sutton Place, London, LH12 3JP_

+

_Dear Maude,_   
_Have you heard from Christie recently? I know you are not awfully close to your sister, but she has not written me back for two weeks, and won’t take my calls. I do worry that the silk charmeuse dress that I wore was too similar to hers for her own engagement party, but if she is offended I do wish she would just tell me!_   
_Please let me know._   
_Rosie Simmonds._

+

Jack refolded the letters and shut the notebook with a churning in his stomach. Something really wasn’t right, he thought to himself- Phryne had found something that she shouldn’t have found, and was setting herself up for something that could end up with her hurt. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, and stood, wrapping his coat around him and tucking the letters into his large pockets before setting off back towards the house, utterly oblivious to the set of eyes that had been watching him from across the river. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry that this took so long to reappear, especially as i did seem to have people actually invested in the narrative- a big faux pas on my part; life’s just been kind of crazy lately and i’ve had a lot going on in my head! (i’ve been stuck at home for 11 weeks. i’m losing it.)  
> on a personal writing note, when phryne’s father calls her selfish for not wanting to have children, i’ve taken that from my own experience of having it happen in the last year- but gods- if you don’t want kids? it’s okay! wwpfd? (what would phryne fisher do?)   
> sending everyone lots of love, and hoping that this chapter tides everyone through for a while.  
> kisses, tei x


	10. The Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE LOVE TO MAI FOR BETA READING THIS AFTER I DISAPPEARED FOR THREE MONTHS <3

Phryne swung open the door to the conservatory with a huff, and fell into the chaise lounge that was in the corner, not noticing that both her parents were in the room. 

“Reggie!” she called out, and the ever-present butler rushed to her side, a tray of lemonade in his hand that he had picked up as soon as he had seen the younger Fisher stomp up the stairs and through the front door, her face flushed and her arms crossed across her front. 

“I’m in need of a pick me up- I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than a lemonade, do you?”

If the poor man had been surprised by his mistress’s daughter’s request for something... alcoholic at , he didn’t let it show on his face. The little time that Reginald Forsythe had spent around the had taught him enough to know that she was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, and if she asked for a tipple, ? It was as his mother had always used to say when she had stumbled home late after a full day of service to the upper crust: it is always better to give in, than it is to let your employer give up.

With that thought in his mind, Reggie poured a measure of fine whiskey into a crystalline glass, and passed it to the younger woman, who tipped it back in one mouthful, before setting the glass down on the side table, and standing up to shrug off her coat. A moment later, her shoes followed suit, and Phryne threw herself back onto the chaise without a care in the world, running a hand through her short cap of black hair before letting out a sigh 

Henry looked at his wife who sat to his side doing a crossword, before looking over at his daughter. As was his want, he took the moment of quiet in the room as an opportunity to talk, and piped up with a remark that was almost as inspirational as every other word that he had ever said

“Trouble in paradise, m’dear?” he said with a chuckle, and Phryne shot him a look that could have made even the most hardened criminal stop in his tracks. In the back of her mind, she knew her father was right: there was, of course, a little trouble in the paradise she had created for herself over the last few years with Jack, and unfortunately, it had been her words and thoughts that had caused it. Her mind wandered back to the look on Jack’s face when she had raised her voice, and in her heart, a little piece of ice melted. She knew, really, that he would never force her to marry, or genuinely make her settle down if she didn’t want to, but part of her brain still couldn’t quite understand that. Phryne twiddled the engagement ring on her finger, before taking a breath and replying to her father.

“I suppose you could say that, Father.” she said, a cloud falling over her features as she tried to carefully pick words that wouldn’t give too much away to him, but still satisfy his curiosity without ending up with either of them speaking out of turn. Out of the corner of her eye, Phryne saw her mother fold up the newspaper she had been doing the crossword in, and turn all her attention to her daughter.

“I lashed out at Jack,” Phryne heard herself saying, ,

“Quite unreasonably, and without justification. He did nothing wrong, and I spoke absolutely out of turn and without regard for his feelings...” she trailed off, and her father opened his mouth (no doubt to quip some witty remark that wouldn’t help anyone), when Margaret patted his shoulder.

“Why don’t you let me deal with this, Henry, Darling.” She said smoothly, not missing a beat,  
“Didn’t you say you wanted to play a round of billiards with the stable hand’s son again this afternoon? You said that you would teach him, and I wouldn’t want to let him down!”

Henry let out a huff, before standing and brushing down his trousers mindlessly with one hand. and with a gentle kiss to Margaret’s papery cheek, he left the room in a cloud of cologne, proclaiming after him that they still needed to ready themselves for the ball tonight, for he was going to RSVP on the telephone to the Glassons before he left.

  
As soon as Henry had left the room, Margaret pulled herself up out of her armchair, and came over to where her daughter was sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, an uncharacteristic downturn settled firmly upon her lips. With a tilt of her head in request, Phryne moved over a little, and Margaret was able to sit beside her, and as the same had been when Phryne was young, she simply waited for her to talk.

“I yelled at Jack, Mother.” Phryne said softly, playing with the tassels at the end of her scarf,  
“He was being so lovely, so perfect- the honest, noble gentleman that he is, and I lashed out simply because he was being everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Margaret let out a little huff, before smoothing her skirt and patting her daughter’s shoulder with a smile.

“I imagine it’s hard to finally know someone so lovely, darling.” she said softly, and Phryne looked up at her with a light smile playing on her lips.

Phryne nodded slowly. Between Mac and her mother, at least, until the whole situation had arisen again, no one else had ever been told about the hell that was her relationship with René- the man who broke her, and made her never want to settle, 

“He’s so different to René.” Phryne said quietly, standing and wandering over to the window to look out at the garden as she spoke. 

“He’s so gentle, and kind, and even though he may seem stern on the surface, Jack must be the most passionate man I’ve ever met.”

Phryne heard her mother giggle, and a rare blush settled over the bridge of her nose.

“Mother!” she turned to face Fisher the elder with a laugh, and her mother was sat gleefully chuckling to herself,

“Not that way!” the blush stayed put on Phryne’s cheeks as she continued to speak.  
“You know, I still haven’t taken him to bed.”

Margaret let out a little huff of surprise, before giggling again.

“I could never compromise Jack like that, Mother.” she said softly,  
“He means too much to me- I would never do something that could get in the way of his investigation, no matter how much effort it takes to not-“

“Hush yourself, darling!” Margaret exclaimed,  
“I don’t need the details!

In the other room, a door opened and closed, and Reggie could be heard greeting someone as feet made their way across the oriental carpets in the front hall.

“I do believe your fiancé might just be home, Phryne,” Margaret said with a smile,   
“Why don’t you go and greet him? Perhaps you could reconcile your differences about your little argument while you’re at it?” she raised a suggestive eyebrow, and Phryne pinkened slightly.

With an exclamation of objection in her Mother’s direction, and a smile of thanks, Phryne departed the conservatory with a slightly lighter heart than she had gone in with. - and had taken a moment to realise what really mattered- that Jack was here, in England with her, and she shouldn’t waste a second with him, because as the man himself was, so was time: 

A click of heels took Phryne from her thoughts, and her mother’s voice echoed behind her,  
“And don’t forget the ball, Phryne!” she exclaimed,   
“We shall be leaving at 6pm sharp if you plan on joining us!” 

Phryne rolled her eyes, and continued on into the hall: so much for easing herself back into high society. At the rate her mother was planning things, both herself and Jack would be thrown into the deep end far sooner than expected, and- oh! 

All of a second after finishing her thought, Phryne found herself face to face (well, face to chest), with the man who she had left on the canal path no more than three-quarters of an hour ago.

“Jack!” she exclaimed,   
“I’m sorry awfully sorry about all-“

smile pulled at her counterpart’s face.

“Shush.” he said, finger still on her lips as he spoke,  
“We can talk about that later. You don’t need to apologise, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne looked up at Jack with the softest smile, and taking his hand in her own, held it still to press a gentle kiss to the finger that he still had across her lips.

“Oh Jack,” she said gently,  
“I am sorry, though. Truly- you know how I am, sometimes the words just....”

“I know.” he said softly,  
“Trust me, I know.” 

A shadow fell over his face for a second as Reggie reappeared to take his jacket, and Phryne raised an eyebrow, before Jack pulled the stack of papers she had given him at the riverside out of his pocket and let the coat be taken away.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” he said,  
“Because there’s something in these letters that has caught my eye, and I’m not sure if it was noted in your other files.”

A smile lit up Phryne’s face and she took Jack’s hand with a grin. 

“My room is quiet, has a comfortable place to sit, and s whisky, Inspector Robinson.” she said with a smile that looked as if she was the cat that got the cream, and Jack couldn’t help but grin back at her as she started to pull him down the hallway and up the stairs.

“It also had the most fabulous company!” she said with a breathy laugh, It was wonderful to be around Phryne again as a whole, he thought to himself; but even more wonderful to be around her when she was on the trail of a case! 

+

Phryne pulled the door closed behind herself and Jack, before throwing herself onto the pale purple doona of her bed and lounging back into the pillows. Jack stood somewhat awkwardly to the side before Phryne patted the empty space beside her and smiled up at him. 

  
“I promise I shan’t set myself right on top of you as soon as you sit down!” 

Jack let out a little huff of laughter and slipped off his suit jacket, hanging it on a peg near to the closet before settling down on the bed next to Phrynewith a half smile pulling at his mouth.

  
“You plan on letting me have my personal space for once? Who are you, and what have you done with Phryne?” 

Phryne laughed, and leant over to press a kiss to Jack’s cheek, at which point he reached out and tugged her to himself, practically pulling her on top of him. His voice lowered to an octave that sent shivers down Phryne’s spine, and his face came closer to her own.

“Perhaps I’ll just have to conduct a thorough investigation....” he pressed a kiss to her brow, followed by one to the tip of her nose.

“After all, she is a person of interest....”

A kiss was placed lightly on her lips, and Phryne let out a playful sigh.

“I’m a person of interest, Inspector Robinson?” she said with absolute glee, and Jack nodded as he continued to place kisses along her neck and then across her clavicle.

“Mmn.” he said softly, his lips brushing against her skin,  
“Very interesting indeed.”

A laugh escaped Phryne’s lips, and Jack put his hands out onto her hips in a feeble attempt to steady her where she had shifted to sit across him. A year ago- no, not even three months ago, he would never have even dreamed that he would be sat on Phryne’s bed, teasing her with pokes at their shared detective work and placing kiss upon kiss on her skin, yet here they were. Half the time, he could hardly believe that he had flown half way around the world to see her in the first place: it was something that when he was with Rosie, he would never have even contemplated, but now? Now it was something that was almost as predictable to him as breathing in and out was.

Phryne noticed the pensive look that had come across Jack’s face as the (very pleasant) assault of kisses to her body came to a halt, and with gentle hands, she cupped Jack’s chin and bought his face up to her own, kissing him soundly.

“You need to stop thinking so much, Jack.” she said gently,  
“Doctor’s orders.” 

Jack let out a little “harrumph” and Phryne rolled her eyes.  
“The only thinking you should be doing is about the case- didn’t you say you had figured something out from the letters?” 

letters in hand, she was snuggled into his side, looking up at him expectantly, the case in the forefront of her mind once more.

“They’re very vague letters.” he said in a manner than made it seem like he was hopelessly lost with what he was supposed to do, and Phryne nodded at him, cuddling closer into his side and letting one arm flop out across his chest With the hand that wasn’t holding letters, Jack entwined his fingers with Phryne’s, and rubbed circles in her palm as he continued to speak.

“What’s unusual though,” he rumbled,  
“Is that each woman says everyone she spoke to was not surprised that the person of interest (phryne kissed his cheek at this point) had disappeared- it was almost as if they were someone always on the up and go- but the author of the letters never seems to think so.

Phryne nodded her head in agreement. Rosie Simmonds was a sceptical one at best, but from what she had heard from the gossip that her mother passed around at the dinner table, her word was actually pretty reliable in the grand majority of instances. 

“My only issue,” Jack continued,  
“Is with that it’s multiple women, even though they all seem to be in somewhat different states of marriage, or engagement. One woman will say her friend has disappeared, the other will agree that she’s concerned, and then but a week later, the woman in agreement is gone too!” 

A furrow appeared in Phryne’s brow, and Jack reached over in a half-joking way to smooth it out.

“It just doesn’t make sense, Jack.” she said quietly.  
“There’s three or so ways that could link these women together- the friendships, the letters, the engagement status- there’s too many factors that make them similar, and surely, in something like this there should only be one!”

Jack nodded in agreement, and placed the letters back on the side table, pulling Phryne closer into his chest.

“Alec mentioned you me that all the disappearances would occur at, or just after a ball.” he said softly,  
“And there would be no trace left, save for a scrap of fabric from their gowns. It’s just strange.”

Phryne ummed in agreement, before letting out a sigh. 

“Did mother mention she wants us to attend a ball with her tonight?” she said with a grimace,  
“The Glasson and Lepont engagement ball as our first forray into polite society as a couple.” she let out an awkward laugh, and Jack looked at her in a slightly inquisitive way.

“Surely if the cases revolve around balls, Miss Fisher,” he said with a half smile,  
“Then this would be the perfect opportunity to do some snooping- together?”

Phryne perked up almost immediately, and let out a faux gasp

“You’re encouraging my snooping, inspector?” she said with a smirk, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh. After all: it wasn’t as if he had any authority in another country, so sometimes it was just easier- and more legal- to let Phryne lead the way.

“Only if you have a dress for the occasion...” he said with a twinkle in his eye, and Phryne jumped off of the bed with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I have a positively lethal dress, Inspector,” she said with a wink,  
“Why don’t you go and find a tux somewhere in cousin Guy’s wardrobe in the West Wing while I pretty myself- we can meet my mother in the foyer at six, and go and.... snoop, as you so eloquently said.”

Jack arose from the bed and stood behind Phryne, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling a kiss into the crook of her neck.

“Sounds like a plan, Miss Fisher,” he said with a grin, and as he walked to the door, piped up with one final note.

“And you don’t need to pretty yourself-   
always, stunning.” 

Phryne felt a blush settle over her cheeks as she heard the door snick closed and wandered towards the wardrobe to try and find a suitable dress. 

“You’ll spoil me, Jack Robinson.” she said under her breath,  
letting a feeling of warm contentment settle in her stomach.   
“You really will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, SO sorry that it’s been three months since I gave this story a second thought- it’s been a crazy time as you’re all well aware, but it feels oh so lovely to be back to writing. With classes starting up again in two weeks, I can’t promise frequent updates, but I do hope to post at least a chapter a month until we’re finished (bearing in mind I post as I write). I hope everyone is staying well in this ridiculous times, and I’m sending you all so much love! <3  
> (P.s. the next chapter contains shameless crossovers with all the 1890’s to 1930’s detective couples that I’ve fallen for over the last month or three, just so we’re all prepared)


End file.
